<7 


University  of  Calif  omia  •  Berkeley 


OLDEN  TIMES  IN  COLORADO 


THE    AUTHOR 

At    the    Close    of    the 

Civil  War  1865 


THE     AUTHOR 
As   Writer  and   Promoter   1915 


THE    AUTHOR 

As  Editor  of  the  St.  Charles 
Cosmos    1873 


THE    AUTHOR 

Just  Before  His  Physical 

Collapse,     1895 


THE    AUTHOR 

After    Succumbing    to 

Nature's  Exactions.    1915 


OLDEN  TIMES  IN  COLORADO 


BY 

CARLYLE  CHANNING  DAVIS 

Author  of 

"The  True  Story  o£  Ramona" 
Etc. 


LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 

THE  PHILLIPS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1916 


DE  LUXE  EDITION 


NO. 


COPYRIGHT.  1916 

BY 
CARLYLE  CHANNING  DAVIS 


'He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  true." 


— SHAKESPEARE 


TO 

CALVIN  HENRY  MORSE 

This  volume  is  affectionately  dedicated  by 

THE  AUTHOR 


PERSONAL  AND  EXPLANATORY 


The  single  perplexing  problem  encountered  in 
the  preparation  of  this  work  was  the  choice  of  a 
suitable  title.  The  story  is  somewhat  less,  yet 
considerably  more  than  an  autobiography  —  an 
abbreviated  biography  of  half  a  hundred  persons, 
replete  with  historical  facts,  still  not  a  consecu- 
tive history  —  neither  fiction  nor  yet  a  work  of 
reference  —  scarcely  worthy  in  any  sense  to  be 
classified  as  literature  —  what,  indeed,  should  it 
have  been  called  ?  Perhaps,  "An  Odd  Story  of  an 
Unique  Career,"  since  it  is  that — told  in  a  homely 
fashion,  without  attempt  at  polished  diction  —  would 
have  been  as  appropriate  as  any  other  name.  But 
"Olden  Times  in  Colorado"  has  been  chosen  for 
reasons  that  to  the  reflecting  reader  will  be  ob- 
vious. Wholely  written  from  memory  while  in- 
valided, it  will  not  appear  remarkable  if  minor 
errors  have  crept  into  its  pages,  considering  the 
fact  that  the  events  chronicled  cover  a  period 
of  nearly  seventy  years.  The  reader  will  be  dis- 
posed, the  author  hopes,  to  overlook  its  short- 
comings, to  piece  out  imperfections  with  kind 
thoughts,  as  -well  as  to  give  credit  to  the  author 
for  a  design  to  approximate  the  truth,  and  to  have 
had  ever  in  mind  and  heart  a  purpose  to  scatter 
good  seed  in  a  fruitful  soil. 


AN  APPRECIATION 


My  friend,  the  Author,  uCad"  Davis,  asked  me  to 
write  an  Introduction  to  this  Book.  It  instantly  sug- 
gested to  my  mind  Buckle's  Introduction  to  his  great 
"History  of  Civilization,"  containing  nearly  half  a 
million  words — and  I  shuddered. 

At  any  rate,  an  Introduction  to  this  Book  would  be 
supererigatory.  It  needs  no  bush,  for  if  ever  a  Book 
spoke  for  itself,  it  is  this  one  in  question. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  write  something.  Hence  a  few 
appreciative  words  of  the  Author  and  his  work  may 
answer  the  same  purpose  as  an  Introduction — that  is,  if 
any  Book  ever  required  a  Preface,  an  Introduction,  a 
Foreword  or  an  Appreciation,  other  than  being  con- 
ventional. But  to  ignore  conventionality  altogether 
should  be  fatal  to  betterment.  It  is  a  good  servant,  but 
a  bad  master. 

Davis'  Book  is  in  form  autobiographical.  But  in 
fact  it  is  historical,  in  the  best  sense  of  that  badly 
maligned  term.  There  is  no  more  delightful  reading 
than  an  able  autobiography  or  biography,  provided  the 
egotism  of  the  writer  is  under  proper  control.  This 
Book  is  discriminating  and  discerning  in  this  respect. 
In  fact,  there  is  not  enough  about  the  Author.  The  one 
picture,  limned  by  a  contemporary  journalist,  that  is  in- 
serted in  the  Book,  is  a  mere  sketch  that  utterly  fails  to 
express  the  soul  of  the  man;  and  I  mean  by  soul  the 
development  of  the  phronetal  cells  of  an  organism.  The 
writer  fails  because  of  the  measure  he  uses.  Like  most 
persons,  this  writer  measures  Success  in  life  from  the 
hackneyed  standard — which  is  arbitrary  and  dangerous 
—of  mere  possession — possession  of  wealth  or  posses- 
sion of  power,  and  in  most  cases  of  both.  In  a  critical 
letter  to  the  Author  of  his  manuscript  I  wrote:  "I  say 
that  your  career  has  been  in  the  best  and  highest  sense 
monumentally  successful.  It  is  what  a  person  does  in 


life,  not  what  he  swipes  and  stows  away,  that  spells 
Success." 

If  this  conclusion  is  correct,  Davis  in  his  day  was 
one  of  the  most  capable  of  the  big  men  that  were 
developed  in  Colorado  during  that  period.  When  many 
a  "great"  Statesman,  corporation  lawyer,  millionaire  of 
this  age,  is  in  oblivion,  "Cad"  Davis  will  be  respected 
and  honored  by  the  coming  appreciative  student  of  his- 
tory. Not  because  he  was  and  is  a  paragon  of  virtue,  a 
genius,  or  a  man  of  superlative  knowledge.  But  be- 
cause, in  consequence  of  heredity  and  practice,  he 
invariably  did  the  right  act  at  the  proper  time.  What 
does  that  consist  of?  Surely  those  actions  that  make 
for  the  good  of  the  race,  without  being  derogatory  to 
self  interest.  In  other  words,  a  nice  balancing  of  altru- 
istic and  selfish  acts.  "A  mediocre  person,"  say  you. 
Be  it  so.  It  has  been  and  ever  will  be  mediocrity  that 
betters  humanity.  The  genius  and  the  commercial  Naps 
are  too  one-sided  or  too  narrow  to  be  of  much  account 
in  the  uplift  process. 

Davis  was  nurtured  on  newspaper  work  from  his 
nonage.  He  functioned  what  he  acquired  by  experience 
perfectly.  We  see  that  he  began  as  a  "printer's  devil," 
and  became  the  editor  and  owner  of  three  daily  news- 
papers in  the  most  unique  city  of  all  time,  on  the  peak  of 
the  world,  populated  with  as  heterogeneous  and  fan- 
tastic a  people  as  ever  composed  a  community.  The 
bars  were  down,  and  the  best  emotions  and  the  worst 
passions  ran  riot. 

Scratch  off  our  veneer  of  civilization,  which  is  no 
difficult  task,  and  we  are  back  in  barbarism  if  not 
savagery.  Davis,  consciously  and  unconsciously,  wielded 
his  newspapers  in  behalf  of  betterment  and  righteous- 
ness, and  the  influence  of  those  journals  not  only 
modified  Leadville,  but  spread  for  right  doing  to  every 
corner  of  Colorado.  He  deserves  credit  merely  because 
he  was  fortunate  to  be  what  he  is  and  not  because  he 
could,  if  he  chose,  have  done  differently.  Much  of 
which  is  due  to  his  ancestors,  and  some  to  his  own 
exertions,  in  acquiring  the  knowledge  that  proved  to  be 


most  suitable  to  allow  him  to  adapt  himself  to  one  of 
the  most  unique  conditions  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
That  Leadville  and  those  persons  are  no  more,  and  never 
again  can  the  precise  environment  become  to  reproduce 
a  similar  city  and  people.  Is  not,  may  be  asked,  a 
truthful  account  of  those  conditions  and  of  those 
persons,  by  a  participator,  far  more  entitled  to  the  name 
of  history  than  the  rude  guesses  and  deductions  that 
have  long  been  considered  history  ? 

Our  Author  was  a  competent  editorial  writer,  hence 
his  style  is  simple  and  impressive.  What  he  knows  he 
knows  thoroughly,  and  he  expresses  himself  clearly  and 
logically.  This  is  why  his  Book  is  so  delightful  to  read. 
When  we  think  of  the  exactions  of  newspaperdom,  is  it 
any  wonder  that  so  few  editors  rise  above  the  level  of 
the  crowd  that  they  are  compelled  to  patronize  to  exist 
at  all? 

Davis  was  wise  but  not  servile.  Had  he  learned 
to  bend  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee,  he  would  surely 
have  been  Governor  of  his  State,  or  installed  in  some 
other  high  office  within  the  power  of  the  politicians. 
Though  a  loyal  partisan,  if  not  a  stubborn  one,  he  fought 
crooked  methods  and  crooks  within  his  party  fully  as 
sincerely  and  ably  as  those  men  and  measures  he  was 
opposed  to. 

In  my  opinion  the  quality  of  the  man  that  deserves 
the  most  praise  is  his  warm  affections  for  those  he  likes. 
No  doubt  he  underrates  this  sublime  qualification.  We 
are  falsely  educated  to  consider  any  display  of  affection, 
outside  the  family,  as  something  akin  to  mollycodling. 
A  mistake.  Charles  Darwin,  of  whom  none  was  more 
competent  to  speak,  in  a  letter  to  J.  D.  Hooker,  the  great 
botanist,  says :  "Talk  of  Fame,  Honor,  Pleasure,  Wealth, 
all  are  dirt  compared  with  affection;  and  this  is  a 
doctrine  with  which  I  know,  from  your  letter,  that  you 
will  agree  from  the  bottom  of  your  heart." 

Why  our  affectionate  emotions  are  not  educated 
similar  to  the  intellectual  faculties  must  seem  ridiculous 
to  a  person  who  gives  the  subject  a  modicum  of 
consideration. 


What  we  desire  the  most  we  leave  to  fortuitous 
causes  or  Providence.  There  is  no  necessity  to  confound 
ethics  with  affection,  though  of  course  they  are  inte- 
grants. So  is  intellectuality.  Nature  abhors  lines  of 
demarcation,  but  man  must  have  them  for  classification 
to  acquire  inductive  knowledge — the  knowledge  of  most 
import  to  humanity. 

This  inadequate  foreword  may  help  the  reader  to 
enjoy  and  to  appreciate  the  treat  that  lies  before  him. 
It  is  my  desire  that  others  will  see  in  the  Book  all  that 
I  got  out  of  it. 

ROBERT  J.  BELFORD. 
Los  Angeles,  1916. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 
Buffeted  About   from   Ocean   to   Ocean   and   from   the 

Great  Lakes  to  the  Gulf 1 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Five  Months'  Journey  from  Northern  New  York  to 

Central  Iowa  4 

CHAPTER  III. 
Four  Dollars  Earned  in  a  Day — An  Entire  Year's  Labor 

for  a  Red  Cow 8 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Beginning  of  a  Half  Century's  Career  in  the  Field  of 

Journalism        ........         13 

CHAPTER  V. 
Peace  Hath  Its  Victories  No  Less  Than  War — Career 

of   the   Anamosa   Tigers 16 

CHAPTER  VI. 
How  With   Some  Assistance   I   Succeeded  in   Putting 

Down  the  Rebellion         .         .         .         .  .         19 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Gruesome  Work — My  First  Shock — A  Captain  in  Dis- 
grace— An     Irksome     Detail         ....         23 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Chased  by  Guerillas — Burning  of  Grand  Junction — For- 
rest's    Dash    into    Memphis          ....         26 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A    Near   Tragedy — Thrilling   Recapture    of    Colors — A 

Regiment  Shot  into  Bits 30 

CHAPTER  X. 

Embarked   for   Home — Thrilling   Steamboat   Race    Be- 
tween Two  River  Leviathans         ....         33 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Paths   of    Peace — Experiences    as   a   Tramp    Printer — 

"Beardless  Editor  of  Egypt"         ....         37 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Juvenile   Missionary  Work   in   the   Queen   City   Yields 

Handsome  Returns          ......         40 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Decided  to   Locate  in  a  Field  Where  I   Was   Neither 

Needed  nor  Wanted 42 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Single-Handed  Engagement  with  an  Infuriated  Mob  to 

Save    a    Miserable    Life 48 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Death  and  Destruction  Come  Out  of  the  Heavens  on  a 

Peaceful     Sunday  51 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Fearsome  Midnight  Conference  with  Condemned  Mur- 
derer   in    His    Cell         ......         56 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Great  Revenue  Conspiracy  of  '73 — My  Connection 

with   Its   Principals         ......         60 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Earnings  of  Five  Years  Ascend  in  Smoke — Failure  of 

Health— Off   to   the    Rockies         ....         70 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  Summer  in  the  Mountains — Perilous  Ascent  of  Long's 

Peak — Triumphant  Tour         .....         74 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Glimpse  of  the  Early  Colorado — Progress  from  Grazing 

to  Gold  and  Silver  Greatness         ....         77 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Thrilling   Railway   History — Guarding  Mountain    Pass 

with    Cannon — Gorge    Fortified  ...         80 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Privileged  Peep  into  the  Archives  of  the  Denver  and 

Rio  Grande  Railway 84 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Allurement  of  Mining  Booms — Fingerboard  to  Fortune 

—Birth  of  a  Great  Newspaper         ....       102 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Snowed  in   on   the   Kansas   Plains — Discomfiture   of   a 

Railway  Agent 106 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
An  Impressionist's  View  of  the  Weirdest  City  on  the 

Face   of   the    Globe 109 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Climbing  into   the   Clouds — Lost  in   a   Blinding   Snow 

Storm    at    High     Noon 112 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
First   Night  Amidst   Scenes   Never   Before   Witnessed 

in    a    Civilized    Country 114 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Weird  Sights  by  Daylight — A  Bank  Outside  the  Coun- 
ter—Wonderful    Postoffice  ....       120 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Launching  of  the  Most  Successful  Journal  in  History — 

An   Enormous   Sale 123 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Phenomenal  Success  of  the  Carbonate  Chronicle — $3,500 

for     10,000     Copies 129 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Fifty  Thousand  to  the  Good  the  First  Year — Vale  Ar- 

kins    and     Burnell 131 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Fight  for  Title — Difficulties  in  Procuring  News — Dead- 
wood  Destroyed 135 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Order  Out  of  Chaos— City  Flooded— Office  Fortified- 
Life     in     Jeopardy 139 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Startling   Disintegration   of  the   Working   Force — One 

Man  Only  at  the  Helm 144 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
The  Retort  Final— "A  Thief  by  Instinct,  a  Blackmailer 

by   Profession" 151 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

First  Editor  of  Harper's  Weekly  Joins  the  Staff — Re- 
porter's Tragic  End 154 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  Brilliant  Career  of  Orth  Stein,  a  Strangely  Con- 
tradictory Character 159 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
Discovery    of    a    Prodigy — An    Editor    with    Fifty-Six 

Ounces  of  Gray  Matter 167 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
Col.  Joyce  of  Insane  Asylum  and  Prison  Fame  Ascends 

the  Tripod 172 

CHAPTER  XL. 
Vivian,  Creator  of  Benevolent  Order  of  Elks,  Joins  the 

Local  Staff      .  176 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  Chronicle  Absorbs  Democrat  and  Herald,  Becom- 
ing a  Grinding  Monopoly 179 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
Human    Life   the   Cheapest    Commodity   in   the    Local 

Market — Shameful  Corruption        ....       185 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
Fabulous  Riches  Uncovered — Fortunes  in  a  Day — 30,000 

Claims    Recorded  189 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
Opening  a  New  Chapter  in  the  Fascinating  History  of 

Famous   Fryer  Hill         .         .         .         .         .         .198 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
First  Authentic  Account  of  the  Discovery  of  the  Little 

Pittsburg  Mine 203 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Inspiration  for  the  Building  of  a  Great  Transcontinental 

Railway     Line 207 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
Corruption  in  City  Affairs — A  Model  Mayor — Schemes 

of    Graft    Circumvented 214 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
The  Brighter  Side  of  Life — Characteristics  of  Society 

in    the    Early    Day         .         .         .  .         .      217 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
Appointed    Master    of    the    Mails — Most    Remarkable 

Postoffice  in  the  World 222 

CHAPTER  L. 

The  Terrible  Fate  of  a  Postal  Clerk  and  Three  Asso- 
ciates in  a  Snowslide  226 


CHAPTER  LI. 
Lot    and    Mine    Jumping — Tragic    Occurrences — Two 

Men  Jibbeted — Mines  Fortified      ....       229 

CHAPTER  LII. 
Riot  of  Corruption  in  Public  Office — Frightful  Crimes 

and  Accidents 236 

CHAPTER  LIII. 
Visited  by  Gen'l  Grant,  President  Harrison,  Vanderbilt 

and  the  Goulds 239 

CHAPTER  LIV. 
Era  of  Legitimate  Acting — Theatre  in  a  Tent — Strong 

Stock  Combinations         ......       246 

CHAPTER  LV. 

A  Gigantic  Conspiracy  to  Depress  Stocks — Eight  Thou- 
sand  Miners   Strike         ......       248 

CHAPTER  LVI. 
Numerous  Incidents  of  Thrilling  and  Tragic   Interest 

in  Banking  History         ......       262 

CHAPTER  LVII. 
A  Stormy  Political  Battle  as  an  Aftermath  of  the  City 

National  Bank  Row 283 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 
The    State    Treasury    Ring    Beaten    to    a    Frazzle    and 

Driven  from  Power 289 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

Excessive  Wickedness  Redeemed  by  Unexampled  Char- 
ity— The  Fighting  Parson 294 

CHAPTER  LX. 
Summit  to  the  Sea — Efforts  Far  Afield — How  a  Deep 

Water  Port  Was  Secured 305 

CHAPTER  LXI. 
Strange  Facts,  at  Once  Thrilling,  Pathetic,  Grotesque 

and  Humorous 310 

CHAPTER  LXII. 
With  the  Collapse  of  Silver  Leadville  Again  Turns  to 

its    Gold    Deposits 332 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 
Crystal    Carnival   and    Ice    Palace — A    Most    Gorgeous 

Architectural    Spectacle 337 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 
Heart-Rending  Cablegrams  that  Sent  the  Author  Upon 

a  Very  Sad  Mission 352 

CHAPTER  LXV. 

The  Influence  of  the  Press — Essay  in  "Political  Por- 
traits," by  Fitz  Mac 372 

CHAPTER  LXVL 
My  Relations  with  the  Press  Gang — 'Gene   Field  and 

His      Eccentricities 386 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 
Surrender  to  Nature's  Exactions — Life  in  the  Palaces 

of  the  Afflicted 400 

CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

Boarding  the  Oregon — On  to  Zion — A  Nemesis — Shel- 
tered in  Home  for  Veterans  ....  405 

CHAPTER  LXIX. 
Again  in  Harness — Second  Collapse — Proposal  by  Wire 

—Shirt-Waist  Wedding  .      410 

CHAPTER  LXX. 
Again  with  Angels — Creating  Fiction  and   Dealing  in 

Junk — Farmer  Once  More 419 

CHAPTER  LXXI. 
The   Case   Submitted   to   a   Jury   of   My   Peers — What 

Shall    the    Verdict    Be?  .      430 

APPENDIX 

Summary  of  More  Recent  Developments  in  the  Lead- 
ville  Mining  District,  by  Henry  C.  Butler,  Editor 
Herald-Democrat  .  .  .  .  .  .  435 

A  Few  Excerpts  from  the  Contemporary  Press        .         .      436 


Glen    Street,    Glen's    Falls,    New    York,    Author's    Birthplace 

Palls   of   the    Hudson    in   Winter,    Head   of   Navigation 

Parade  of  State  Militia  at   Glen's  Falls,    New  York 


CHAPTER  I. 

BUFFETED  ABOUT  FROM  OCEAN  TO  OCEAN  AND  FROM 
THE  GREAT  LAKES  TO  THE  GULF 

How  I  have  escaped  becoming  President  of  the 
United  States  may  not  easily  be  explained ;  for,  although 
not  born  in  a  log  cabin,  I  have  passed  through  most 
of  those  borderland  vicissitudes  and  rugged  experiences 
that  characterize  the  lives  of  most  of  our  chief 
executives,  from  George  Washington  down  to  the 
schoolmaster  of  Princeton. 

I  may  not  be  able  to  trace  my  genealogy  to  Plymouth 
Rock,  but  even  that  may  not  wholly  rob  my  story  of 
human  interest.  My  ancestry,  nevertheless  was  decidedly 
Puritan.  My  mother,  rest  her  saintly  soul,  was  a 
Vermont  school  marm,  from  the  little  village  of  Bethel ; 
my  father,  both  preacher  and  doctor — a  Homeopathic 
preacher,  and  an  Allopathic  doctor — sprang  from  the 
larger  community  of  Killingly,  Connecticut. 

Nor  was  it  an  uncommon  combination  of  pursuits 
three-quarters  of  a  century  ago,  when  preachers  were 
so  poorly  remunerated  that  they  must  needs  piece  out 
scant  incomes  with  earnings  in  more  sordid  spheres. 
Medical  science  was  not  far  advanced  in  those  early 
days,  and  doctors  were  wont  to  ride  about  the  country, 
their  saddle-bags  stuffed  with  quinine  and  blue  mass 
pills  on  one  side,  and,  when  also  preachers,  the  other 
side  containing  the  inevitable  Bible  and  a  few  tomes  of 
sacred  song. 

I  often  smile  when  I  think  of  my  father  ministering 
to  the  sin-sick  souls  as  well  as  the  bodily  ills  of  mankind 

en 


— practicing  "old  school"  medicine  and  preaching  uni- 
versal salvation,  at  one  and  the  same  time.  He  was  a 
pioneer  Universalist  preacher,  ordained  at  seventeen, 
devoutly  believing  in  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  the 
Brotherhood  of  Man;  and  when  the  ponderous  pellets 
failed  in  their  mission  and  all  hope  had  fled,  he  at  least 
could  give  assurance  to  his  parishioner  patients  that, 
when  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Time  had  passed,  and  the 
wear  and  fever  and  disappointments  of  Life  were  over, 
there  was  a  place  and  a  rest  appointed  of  God — Some- 
where. I  am  by  no  means  certain  my  father  ever 
attempted  to  indicate  the  precise  locality,  but  his  belief 
in  a  fixed  and  definite  Heavenly  Abode  was  as  profound 
as  was  his  disbelief  in  a  Hell  of  any  kind  whatsoever; 
and,  lest  I  later  omit  to  mention  the  fact,  and  leave  an 
unwarranted  inference,  I  will  here  solemnly  affirm  and 
affix  my  seal,  that,  as  to  this  latter  proposition,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  agree  with  my  father. 

Long  before  I  shall  have  finished  my  story,  the  re- 
flecting reader — if  so  kind  as  to  follow  me  to  the  end — 
will  agree  that  I  have  had  some  cause  for  my  heresy. 
But  if  I  have  traveled  a  weary  trail,  and  been  buffeted 
about  from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  from  lakes  to  gulf,  I 
at  the  same  time  have  rather  enjoyed  life,  rough  hewn 
as  at  times  the  ways  have  been,  and  am  now  able  con- 
fidently to  look  forward  to  the  coming  sunshine  of  truth 
and  redemption,  with  that  faith  my  father  preached, 
and  that  was  radiated  in  my  mother's  saintly 
countenance. 

A  trifle  strange  it  may  seem  that  I  should  write  of 
what  my  father  was  and  did,  wrhen  I  never  had  the  good 
fortune  to  know  him;  this  information  came  to  me  in 
books  and  papers  left  behind — when  he  died?  No.  And 
that  was  my  first  great  cause  for  grief — for  surely  it  is 
a  handicap  to  be  born  into  the  world  with  a  father  living 

[2] 


yet  dead,  a  wee  bit  of  helpless  humanity,  cast  upon  the 
troubled  waters,  the  youngest  of  five,  and  who  never 
should  have  been  born  at  all.  I  never  knew  why  it  should 
have  been  so.  I  never  sought  to  know.  It  had  been  enough 
for  me  later  to  realize  that  I,  before  yet  a  year  old,  was 
fatherless  and  that  it  must  be  a  long  time  before  I  could 
be  of  assistance  to  my  struggling  mother  in  keeping  the 
little  family  together,  away  out  on  the  borders  of  civili- 
zation, with  Indians  all  around  and  about,  and  the  door 
of  Opportunity  not  very  wide  open. 

Before  my  advent,  in  the  beautiful  little  village  of 
Glen's  Falls,  overlooking  the  rapids  of  the  Hudson,  and 
near  the  borders  of  classic  Lake  George,  my  father  had 
filled  various  pulpits  in  New  England,  mainly  at 
Providence  and  at  Boston,  and  there  also  he  had 
published  a  denominational  newspaper,  while  yet  preach- 
ing universal  salvation  and  distributing  blue  mass  pills, 
as  heretofore  mentioned.  Soon  after  my  birth  my 
father  had  a  "call,"  or  at  least  thought  he  had  a  call, 
which  is  much  the  same  thing,  for  it  took  him,  together 
with  my  mother,  brother  and  three  elder  sisters,  from 
the  rest  and  peacefulness,  the  civilization  and  the  cul- 
ture, of  Northern  New  York,  to  the  center  of  the  then 
territory  of  Iowa,  to  preach  his  benign  doctrine  to  the 
pioneers  of  that  remote  section,  as  well  as  to  the 
neighboring  Indian  tribes  that  yet  lingered  on  the  fringe 
of  civilization. 


[3] 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  FIVE  MONTHS'  JOURNEY  BY  WATER  FROM  NORTHERN 
NEW  YORK  TO  CENTRAL  IOWA 

The  trek  from  Northern  New  York  to  Middle  Iowa, 
in  the  late  40s,  may  be  contrasted,  but  scarcely  compared, 
with  the  later  hegira  from  the  Missouri  River  to  Pike's 
Peak.  It  consumed  more  time  and  developed  greater 
hardships. 

Today  one  may  travel  from  Glen's  Falls  to  Iowa  City 
in  magnificently  appointed  vestibuled  trains  de  luxe  in 
perhaps  thirty  hours.  A  letter  from  my  brother  to  a 
cousin  "down  East"  gave  some  details  of  the  journey  as 
my  father  and  family  took  it.  From  this  scrap  of 
ancient  history  I  gather  that  five  months  of  time  was 
consumed,  although  no  unnecessary  stops  were  made. 
The  expense  of  the  trip  must  have  been  great.  Every 
league  of  the  journey  was  by  water !  Five  passengers — 
if  the  wee  mortal  represented  by  myself,  and  carried  all 
the  way  on  a  pillow,  may  be  entitled  to  figure  on  the  list 
— a  jag  of  household  goods,  and  the  first  library  of  any 
dimensions  ever  taken  into  the  Territory,  consisting  of 
many  thousand  volumes. 

How  my  father  accumulated  sufficient  funds  to 
transport  the  animate  and  inanimate  items  of  his 
belongings  to  the  Promised  Land  I  may  not  even  conjec- 
ture, for,  as  I  have  suggested,  his  income,  as  doctor, 
preacher  and  editor,  was  precarious,  and  in  those  days 
neither  canal  boats  nor  steam  vessels  were  given  to 
rebating,  passes  were  unknown,  nor  is  it  likely  that 

[4] 


"members  of  the  cloth"  were  given  any  more  considera- 
tion than  the  average  sinner. 

But  he  achieved  his  purpose,  and  on  a  bleak  Novem- 
ber day  the  plunder  and  plundered  were  unloaded  from 
a  little  side-wheel  steamer  on  the  banks  of  the  Iowa 
River,  under  the  shadows  of  the  present  State  Univer- 
sity buildings,  and  the  work  of  regenerating  the  heathen 
presumably  was  begun  without  unnecessary  delay.  The 
course  had  been  down  the  Hudson  to  the  Erie  Canal,  up 
through  the  sinuous  meanderings  of  that  interior 
waterway  to  and  through  the  Great  Lakes  to  Fort  Dear- 
born, present  site  of  Chicago,  thence  down  the  Illinois 
to  the  Mississippi,  up  the  Father  of  Waters  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Iowa,  and  on  to  destination.  At  that  date  there 
was  not  a  foot  of  railway  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  and 
the  route  taken  was  the  only  one  open  to  the  traveler 
except  the  "prairie  schooner." 

My  father's  first  sermon  was  delivered  from  a 
roughly  devised  pulpit  at  one  end  of  a  long  tent,  and 
among  his  listeners  was  a  sprinkling  of  Pottawatomie 
Indians,  who  evinced  quite  as  much  interest  in  the  new 
and  to  them  not  altogether  novel  teachings  as  did  the 
average  white  men  and  women  present. 

Indians,  in  a  way,  are  all  Universalists.  They  be- 
lieve only  in  a  "happy  hunting  ground"  in  the  Great 
Beyond,  and  take  little  stock  in  the  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion, the  Trinity,  or  any  of  the  other  essentials  of  modern 
Evangelical  belief. 

My  father  remained  in  Iowa  City  long  enough  to 
organize  a  society  of  his  liberal  faith,  and  to  build  a 
small  adobe  church  on  the  outskirts  of  the  settlement. 
Later  a  more  pretentious  edifice  of  real  brick  was 
erected,  and  this  has  withstood  the  march  of  progress 
for  three-quarters  of  a  century,  silent  reminder  of  the 
struggles  of  that  early  day  to  advance  the  cause  of 

[5] 


liberal  religion,  to  give  comfort  to  the  sin-sick  soul,  and 
to  instill  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  pioneers,  white 
and  red,  the  promise  of  final  redemption. 

My  earliest  recollections  were  of  a  deserted  mother, 
struggling  under  the  most  adverse  circumstances  to 
keep  her  five  children  together,  to  keep  them  fed  and 
warm,  and  to  give  to  them  an  education.  Her  capability 
to  teach  the  "three  Rs"  saved  the  family  from  actual 
suffering,  for  there  were  no  public  schools  in  that 
distant  outpost,  and  the  pioneer  denizens  gladly  em- 
braced the  opportunity  of  exchanging  produce  for 
tuition. 

There  was  very  little  money  in  circulation  at  the 
time,  and  that  in  use  was  of  such  doubtful  purchasing 
power  that  a  dollar  of  "wild-cat"  currency  was  likely  to 
shrink  to  "four  bits"  over  night.  I  well  remember  how 
the  merchant,  before  delivering  his  precious  goods  over 
the  counter  to  the  waiting  and  often  trembling  customer, 
was  compelled  to  consult  a  ponderous  volume,  periodi- 
cally issued  by  some  banking  house,  to  ascertain  the 
value,  upon  that  particular  day,  of  the  issue  of  the 
"Farmers  Bank  of  Plunkville,"  since  it  was  wont  to 
fluctuate  between  the  setting  and  rising  of  the  sun.  It 
was  the  period  following  the  great  financial  crisis  of 
1837,  when  the  country  was  flooded  with  the  most 
vicious  issue  of  currency  with  which  a  land  was  ever 
cursed.  It  had  not  been  like  your  modern  bankers'  crisis, 
to  be  ended  at  the  pleasure  or  the  interest  of  a  Morgan 
or  a  Rockefeller.  It  lasted  for  decades,  and  its  effects 
did  not  entirely  disappear  until  the  advent  of  the  Civil 
War,  and  the  supplanting  of  the  "shinplasters"  with  the 
welcome  greenback,  which,  however,  as  the  struggle  pro- 
gressed, also  decreased  in  purchasing  power,  until  the 
dark  days  antedating  Gettysburg,  when  it  required  a 
five  dollar  note  to  purchase  a  satisfying  breakfast. 

[6] 


The  struggle  for  possession  of  the  children  that 
followed  the  separation  of  my  parents  did  not  include 
me.  Poor  little  scrofulous  creature,  ushered  into  the 
world  half  made  up,  there  was  little  reason  why  either 
should  want  me.  But  my  mother  did,  and  the  fact  that, 
unlike  the  others,  I  did  not  have  to  be  hid  away,  gave  me 
a  freedom  in  my  earlier  years  which  brothers  and  sisters 
were  not  permitteed  to  share. 

Greatest  of  all  my  earliest  ambitions,  all-consuming 
in  a  way,  were  to  assist  my  mother,  and  this,  with  my 
limited  equipment,  physical  and  mental,  I  nursed  to  the 
limit. 


[7] 


CHAPTER  III. 

FOUR  DOLLARS  EARNED  IN  A  DAY — AN  ENTIRE  YEAR'S 
LABOR  FOR  A  RED  Cow 

Vivid  is  my  recollection  of  my  advent  into  the  fi- 
nancial world.  Who  but  an  ambitious  boy,  with  like 
experience,  can  conceive  of  the  joy  that  comes  with  the 
first  dollar  legitimately  earned.  Mine  came  in  the  cigar 
trade.  A  dealer,  with  faith  in  my  integrity,  if  not 
abounding  confidence  in  my  rustling  ability,  "staked" 
me  to  a  box  of  cigars. 

The  occasion  was  a  monster  Democratic  rally,  with 
Stephen  A.  Douglas  in  the  stellar  role,  in  the  memorable 
Presidential  campaign  of  1860.  I  was  born  a  Republi- 
can, early  enrolled  myself  as  a  Lincoln  "Wide  Awake," 
and  had  no  sympathy  with  the  object  of  the  gathering; 
hence  I  gladly  surrendered  the  opportunity  to  listen  to 
a  noted  orator  for  the  more  alluring  hope  of  making 
that  first  dollar. 

And  by  nightfall  the  dollar  grew  to  four,  each  one 
bigger  in  my  sight  than  a  cartwheel.  The  pride  with 
which,  after  settling  with  the  dealer  for  the  last  box  of 
cigars  purchased,  I  ran  home  and  dumped  the  shining 
coin  into  my  mother's  waiting  lap,  may  perhaps  be 
inferred. 

But  the  joy  of  that  night  was  saddened  by  what 
followed  the  succeeding  day,  when  my  mother,  tearfully 
bidding  me  good-bye,  handed  me  over  to  a  German 
farmer,  named  Charles  DrufT,  living  fifteen  miles  from 
town,  and  for  whom  I  was  to  work  a  year  for  my  board 
and  clothes. 

[8] 


To  be  sure,  I  was  to  have  the  advantage  of  three 
months'  schooling;  but  as  I  now  reflect  upon  the  deal  my 
mother  negotiated  for  my  labor,  I  am  in  some  doubt  as 
to  which  of  the  three  considerations  was  the  worst,  the 
food,  the  clothing  or  the  schooling. 

But  I  entered  willingly  upon  the  task,  grievous  as  it 
was  to  part  with  the  loved  ones  at  home,  and  I  am  sure 
no  lad  ever  labored  more  faithfully  or  loyally  than  did 
I,  or  devour  the  coarse  but  wholesome  and  plentiful 
food  with  greater  relish. 

To  me  it  was  a  year  of  healthy  expansion,  mentally 
as  well  as  physically,  and  before  the  twelvemonth  was 
rounded  out  I  was  able  to  do  almost  the  work  of  a  robust 
man  in  field,  garden  or  corral.  I  indeed  had  been  so 
useful  to  my  employer  that,  at  parting,  he  displayed  his 
appreciation  by  presenting  to  me  a  handsome  cow. 

A  property  owner  at  last ! 

But  the  cow  was  fifteen  miles  from  home,  and  I 
fancy  few  men  of  mature  years  would  have  thought  of 
driving  her  all  that  long  distance,  wholly  unassisted. 
However,  I  tackled  the  prospect  without  the  slightest 
hesitation,  and  swung  along  that  tortuous  country  lane 
the  proudest  kid  in  all  the  broad  state  of  Iowa.  It  was 
not  an  easy  task,  I  do  assure  you,  dear  reader,  for  there 
were  many  roads  crossing  the  highway  traversed,  and  I 
do  not  recall  a  single  one  that  my  beautiful  cow  failed  to 
turn  into.  Nothing  so  perverse  as  a  cow  in  all  Nature, 
I  do  verily  believe,  and  I  am  free  to  confess  that,  before 
nightfall,  I  more  than  half  wished  Mr.  Druff  had  kept 
his  cow  and  not  wearied  my  patience  and  endangered 
my  immortal  soul  by  the  thoughts  I  gave  utterance  to 
and  those  I  harbored,  but  dared  not  breathe  aloud.  I 
got  the  beast  to  the  bridge  spanning  the  river,  but  there 
I  was  compelled  to  leave  her,  since,  by  the  exercise  of  no 
degree  of  ingenuity,  skill,  diplomacy,  tact,  persuasion, 

[91 


trick  or  devise,  could  I,  unassisted,  induce  her  to  enter 
upon  the  bridge  and  cross  to  my  home. 

All  day  I  had  anticipated  the  pride  and  joy  of  my 
mother,  when  she  should  see  me  coming  home  with  a 
cow,  a  beautiful  and  a  prolific  cow,  all  my  very  own  to 
give  to  her,  for  it  was  to  be  a  surprise  party  without 
counterpart  in  my  youthful  history.  Disappointing  as 
it  was,  I  was  compelled  to  part  with  the  beast  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  river,  and  go  home  to  my  mother 
empty-handed. 

Possibly,  however,  since  there  is  supposed  to  be  a 
law  of  compensation  in  all  things,  my  dreams  were 
tinted  a  brighter  hue  in  anticipation  of  the  conquest  of 
the  morrow.  It  surely  was  a  memorable  day  in  my 
calendar. 

To  my  mother  that  cow  proved  a  God-send  indeed, 
with  more  meaning  in  the  economy  of  the  household  than 
I  at  the  time  could  be  expected  to  realize. 

I  have  earned  and  owned  property,  real  and  personal, 
many  times  since,  but  never  a  chattel  of  which  I  was 
prouder  than  of  the  cow  that  Mr.  Druff  gave  to  me  for 
zealous  labor,  in  excess  of  promise  or  anticipation. 

My  year's  experience  on  a  farm  had  been  highly 
beneficial  in  many  ways.  I  had  learned  the  first  im- 
portant lesson,  that  fidelity,  loyalty  and  devotion  to  duty 
are  quite  certain  to  be  rewarded.  Failure  of  apprecia- 
tion on  the  part  of  my  employer  might  have  impressed 
me  differently,  and  coming  at  so  early  a  period  in  my 
career  easily  might  have  had  a  more  or  less  controlling 
influence  upon  my  future  course.  Parting  with  that 
cow  did  not  impoverish  Mr.  Druff,  while,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  did  more  to  strengthen  my  character  and  direct 
my  future  conduct  than  any  anterior  or  subsequent 
event. 

The  reader  may  think  me  inclined  to  overestimate 

[10] 


the  importance  of  trivial  events,  but  to  me,  and  at  that 
time,  this  one  was  of  immense  importance. 

I  had  little  liking  for  farm  life.  It  was,  in  the  first 
instance,  too  strenuous  for  my  meager  physical  equip- 
ment; its  limitations  upon  my  mental  expansion  were 
too  narrow ;  and,  moreover,  I  recognized  the  fact  that  it 
was  not  adequately  remunerative.  I  had  enjoyed  the 
rather  questionable  benefit  of  three  months*  schooling, 
involving  a  three-mile  walk  twice  a  day,  with  an  accum- 
ulation of  chores  night  and  morning;  and  I  doubtless 
would  have  prized  the  privilege  more  highly  had  I 
realized  it  was  to  constitute  the  only  "education"  I  ever 
was  to  have — at  least  in  a  school  room. 

That  magnificent  library  of  my  father's  had  been 
exchanged  for  worthless  Illinois  coal  land,  and  the 
meagre  returns  from  the  sale  eaten  up. 

In  the  family  circle  at  night,  around  a  cheery  log 
fire,  I  read  a  great  deal  that  winter;  read  everything,  in 
fact,  in  the  farmer's  meagre  library,  from  a  "Child's 
History  of  the  Universe"  to  Thomas  Carlyle's  "Sartur 
Resartus."  How  much  of  the  latter  I  comprehended  I 
leave  to  the  imagination  of  the  more  cultured  reader  of 
19th  century  literature.  But  the  reading  of  it  and 
similar  books  was  excellent  mental  discipline,  and, 
moreover,  I  felt  that  I  should  not  reject  the  work  of 
a  distinguished  author  for  whom  in  part  I  had  been 
christened. 

Nor  was  that  winter  on  a  Washington  County  farm 
without  its  interesting  diversion  of  spelling  matches  in 
distant  school  houses,  and  sleigh  rides  over  expansive 
prairies  and  through  forests  of  somber  timber,  where 
the  snow  obliterated  even  the  fences,  and  clothed  the 
stately  trees  with  white  mantles  glistening  in  the  moon- 
light. 

I  had  not  seen  my  mother  all  that  lengthened  twelve- 


month,  and  the  joy  of  both  being  reunited  quite  passeth 
ordinary  understanding.  I  indulged  for  a  few  days  in 
recounting  to  her  the  more  interesting  episodes  of  my 
farm  life  before  giving  serious  thought  to  the  future. 

I  was  desirous  to  learn  a  trade,  but  undecided  as  to 
which  one,  and  while  casting  about  for  an  opportunity 
I  engaged  in  a  number  of  pursuits,  of  varied  duration, 
but  each  educative  in  a  way,  and  all,  to  my  then  modest 
ambition,  highly  remunerative.  I  was  not  proud,  and 
scorned  nothing  that  promised  adequate  returns.  For 
a  time  I  served  as  a  waiter  in  the  leading  hotel,  chopped 
wood  for  neighbors,  cleared  shavings  from  the  machin- 
ery of  a  planing  mill,  gathered  wild  flowers  from  the 
surrounding  hills  for  subsequent  sale  on  the  streets, 
and  finally  became  apprenticed  to  an  "artist." 

Photography  had  not  been  invented  and  the  chef 
d'ouvre  of  the  gallery  was  the  ambrotype,  set  into  more 
or  less  gorgeous  cases  or  frames,  supplemented,  for 
those  not  able  to  indulge  in  such  luxury,  by  the  tintype, 
which,  if  I  mistake  not,  has  survived  to  this  day.  Before 
I  had  fully  mastered  the  mysteries  of  the  developing 
room,  the  building  in  which  the  gallery  was  housed  was 
destroyed  by  fire,  and  thus  ascended  in  smoke  my  lofty 
ambition  to  become  an  artist  of  renown.  It  was  a  cruel 
blow  to  my  aspirations,  but  proved  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise, for  my  next  venture  was  in  a  field  I  was  destined 
to  occupy,  with  more  or  less  credit  and  honor  to  myself, 
for  a  full  half  century. 


[12] 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BEGINNING  OF  A  HALF  CENTURY'S  CAREER  IN  THE 
FIELD  OF  JOURNALISM 

I  do  not  recall  just  how  it  came  about,  but  in  the  fall 
of  1861  I  was  apprenticed  to  a  firm  of  printers  in  the 
town  of  Anamosa,  Booth  &  Parrott,  publishers  of  the 
Eureka,  the  early  issues  of  which  were  printed  on  a 
press  made  entirely  of  wood,  and  the  bed  of  which  would 
accommodate  but  a  single  page  of  the  little  folio  news- 
paper. 

This  press,  I  am  told,  is  still  preserved  in'  the 
rooms  of  the  State  Historical  Society,  silent  reminder  of 
the  strenuousness  of  journalism  in  Iowa  in  the  early 
60s.  Its  operation  called  for  the  labor  of  two  persons, 
one  to  pass  the  ink  roller  over  the  type  forms,  the  other 
to  place  the  sheet  on  the  tympan,  drop  it  down  upon  the 
form,  roll  it  beneath  the  platen,  pull  the  lever,  and  re- 
verse the  operation.  Although  the  circulation  of  the 
paper  did  not  exceed  500,  two  days  of  each  week  were 
devoted  to  the  task  of  printing  alone. 

Inking  the  forms  was  not  a  highly  intellectual  per- 
formance, but  it  was  one  of  the  ancient,  fixed  and 
unchangeable  stunts  of  the  "printer's  devil,"  and  I 
tackled  it  with  the  same  devotion  to  duty  that  ever 
since  has,  I  believe,  characterized  my  busy  life. 

The  remaining  four  days  of  the  week  I  set  type,  and 
within  a  twelvemonth  I  was  able  to  "galley"  as  much 
"matter"  as  any  full  journeyman,  although  a  four 
years'  apprenticeship  was  presumed  to  be  essential  to 
proficiency. 

[13] 


The  terms  of  the  agreement  with  my  mother  were 
that  I  should  have  board  and  clothing,  $45  a  year  for 
the  first  two  years,  $75  for  the  third  and  $100  for  the 
fourth.  That,  to  me,  seemed  munificent.  My  wants 
were  confined  to  bed  and  board,  and  my  entire  wage 
could  go  to  my  mother.  I  boarded  with  the  junior 
partner  and  slept  in  the  office,  and  to  adjust  matters 
between  the  partners  on  board  account,  it  was  agreed 
that  I  should  have  certain  duties  to  perform  "at  home." 
These  included  chopping  the  family  wood,  rocking  the 
junior  proprietor's  baby,  and  sundry  minor  chores. 
From  none  of  these  exactions  did  I  shrink,  for  none 
were  so  onerous  as  inking  the  forms,  and  the  slight 
participation  in  the  home  life  of  my  employer  partially 
compensated  for  my  absence  from  mother,  and  perhaps 
served  as  a  buffer  for  lonesomeness  during  morning  and 
evening  hours. 

The  senior  partner,  a  man  of  rugged  proportions, 
more  resembling  a  lumber  jack  than  an  editor,  was  the 
high  and  mighty  intellectual  faculty  of  the  combination, 
writing  all  of  the  editorials,  local  intelligence,  funeral 
notices  and  paid  advertisements.  From  birth  he  had 
been  deaf  and  dumb;  hence  one  of  my  first  duties,  ab- 
solutely essential  in  its  nature,  was  to  acquire  the  silent 
alphabet,  and  so  proficient  did  I  become  that  to  this  day, 
after  a  lapse  of  over  half  a  century,  I  am  able  to  con- 
verse with  fair  speed  in  the  language  of  the  deaf  mute. 

Typesetting  proved  a  delight  to  me,  and  I  early 
recognized  its  advantage  as  a  teacher.  I  easily  might 
have  regarded  it  as  an  onerous  task,  to  be  performed 
mechanically  and  perfunctorily,  but  my  ambition  for 
advancement  along  intellectual  lines  prompted  me  to 
secure  the  greatest  possible  results  from  the  exercise. 
In  the  rather  meager  office  library  was  a  dictionary  and 
an  encyclopedia,  and  the  boy  who  may  not,  with  these 

[14] 


adjuncts,  provide  himself  with  a  fair  working  education 
may  be  said  to  be  unworthy  of  it. 

Alongside  my  type  case  I  kept  a  paper  tablet  and 
pencil,  and  during  the  course  of  the  day's  work,  com- 
posing four  columns  of  reading  matter,  I  naturally 
encountered  much  that  required  elucidation.  Hence  upon 
the  tablet  was  entered  a  reference  to  everything  I  needed 
light  upon;  and  through  all  the  years  that  followed  I 
made  it  an  invariable  rule  never  to  seek  my  couch  until 
I  had  satisfactorily  cleared  the  tablet  of  every  entry  of 
the  day,  storing  away  in  my  mind,  for  future  profitable 
use,  a  copious  fund  of  information  upon  an  almost 
limitless  range  of  subjects. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  year  the  co-partnership  of 
Booth  &  Parrott  dissolved,  the  junior  withdrawing  for 
the  purpose  of  establishing  a  new  journal  at  Morris, 
Illinois,  now  almost  a  suburb  of  Chicago. 

Flattering  to  my  pride  was  the  announcement  that  I 
was  to  accompany  him  to  his  new  field,  and  finish  my 
trade  there.  Transportation  was  to  be  provided,  and 
my  wages  materially  increased.  Moreover,  I  was  to  be 
permitted  first  to  visit  my  mother,  and  to  see,  for  the 
first  time  in  many  years,  my  elder  brother.  Graduating 
at  Kenyon  College,  Gambier,  O.,  in  1861,  he  was  among 
the  first  to  enlist  in  a  Buckeye  regiment,  hasten  to  the 
front,  engage  in  battle,  be  captured,  exchanged,  pro- 
moted and  furloughed  home. 

T  paid  a  high  price  for  that  reunion,  covering  the 
sixty-five  miles  between  Anamosa  and  Iowa  City  in  a 
single  day  on  horseback,  blanketed  but  without  saddle. 
For  a  fourteen-year-old-lad,  I  now  reflect  that  the  under- 
taking at  least  bordered  on  the  heroic. 


[15] 


CHAPTER  V. 

PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES  No  LESS  THAN  WAR — 
CAREER  OF  THE  ANAMOSA  TIGERS 

An  outside  enterprise,  undertaken  by  me  while  at 
Anamosa,  may  be  deemed  worthy  of  mention.  Shiloh 
had  been  fought  and  Fort  Donelson  taken.  The  little 
village  had  early  sent  to  the  front  the  flower  of  its  man- 
hood, embracing  a  goodly  proportion  of  heads  of 
families,  and  some  of  the  latter  were  none  too  well 
provided  for.  Realizing  that  I  could  not  join  the 
volunteers,  and  loyally  ambitious  to  contribute  in  some 
way  to  the  Union  cause,  I  conceived  the  idea  of  organiz- 
ing a  relief  corps  among  my  youthful  companions,  and 
the  "Anamosa  Tigers"  was  the  outcome,  the  little  band 
pledged  to  chop  wood,  contributed  by  citizens,  and 
deliver  it  in  stove  lengths  to  the  families  of  the  men  at 
the  front.  Of  this  organization  I  logically  was  chosen 
commander.  The  zest  and  enthusiasm  with  which  this 
work  was  undertaken  by  my  followers  was  truly  typical 
of  American  boyhood,  and  there  was  nothing  of  the 
Tom  Sawyer  finesse  indulged.  Each  member  of  the 
corps  labored  as  though  the  perpetuity  of  the  Union 
depended  solely  upon  his  individual  efforts. 

I  had  indulged  an  excess  amount  of  pleasurable 
anticipation  in  parading  the  streets  with  my  brother, 
togged  out  in  the  uniform  of  his  rank,  with  perhaps  a 
sword  dangling  at  his  heels!  But,  alas,  for  human 
vanity!  It  was  hopelessly  dashed  in  this  instance,  a 
circumstance  due  to  the  extreme  modesty  of  the  elder 
Davis,  who,  instead  of  the  regulation  dress  suit  and 

[16] 


REV.    ASHER    AUSTIN    DAVIS,    D.  D. 
Pioneer    Preacher.    Doctor   and 
Journalist.   Father  of  Author 

MARY    ALICE    SUMMERS    DAVIS 
Wife   of   Author 


JANE     MOULTON     GUSHING     DAVIS 

Pioneer    School     Teacher, 

Mother  of  Author 

COL.    MURRAY    SPURZHEIM    DAVIS 
Eighth  Calalry,   U.    S.   A. 


epaulettes,  wore  only  the  blouse  of  a  private  soldier, 
with  evidence  of  rank  almost  concealed  in  the  folds  of 
its  sleeves.  Hence,  if  any  one  was  impressed  with  his 
greatness  and  the  majesty  of  his  position,  it  was  easily 
traceable  to  the  quiet  tips  I  gave  to  youthful  acquaint- 
ances when  he  was  not  looking. 

Furlough  ended,  Captain  Murray  S.  Davis,  95th 
Ohio  Volunteers,  joined  his  regiment  with  the  Army  of 
the  Cumberland,  while  "Captain"  Carlyle  C.  Davis,  late 
of  the  Anamosa  Tigers,  took  up  his  duties  with  Mr. 
Parrott  in  the  Illinois  town. 

My  career  at  Morris  was  brief  and  uneventful.  My 
employer's  enterprise  there  early  proved  a  failure,  and 
his  newspaper  suspended  before  I  had  finished  the  term 
of  my  apprenticeship. 

Thence  I  went  directly  to  Chicago,  a  city  at  that 
time  numbering  less  than  a  hundred  thousand,  and  there 
met  my  first  Waterloo.  The  wages  of  apprentices  were 
hardly  sufficient  to  sustain  one,  and  because  I  had  not 
served  full  time  I  was  barred  from  the  Union,  member- 
ship in  which  was  essential  to  employment.  I  was  a 
phenomenal  type-setter,  later  distinguishing  myself  as 
such  in  some  of  the  larger  newspaper  offices  of  the 
country,  and  it  struck  me  as  peculiarly  unjust  that  I 
should  be  shut  out  on  so  slight  a  technicality. 

Defeated  and  crestfallen,  I  withdrew  from  a  city  in 
which,  twenty-two  years  later,  I  participated,  as 
delegate-at-large  from  the  Centennial  State  to  the 
National  Republican  Convention,  in  nominating  for 
President  of  the  United  States  that  peerless  statesman 
of  the  time,  Hon.  James  G.  Elaine,  and  went  home  to 
my  mother. 

I  had  saved  a  little  money,  and  upon  arrival  at  Iowa 
City  I  invested  it  in  a  modest  little  ice  cream  parlor  and 
confectionery  store.  In  that  undertaking  I  would  have 

[17] 


succeeded,  had  I  not,  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  con- 
sented that  my  partner  should  keep  the  books. 

But  even  that  calamity  subsequently  proved  a  bless- 
ing, for  duplicated  ten  years  later,  I  suspended  business 
for  a  period  and  matriculated  in  a  commercial  college  at 
St.  Louis,  mastering  the  branches  of  book-keeping  and 
commercial  law,  determined  that  if,  in  the  future,  there 
should  be  any  losses  chargeable  to  faulty  account- 
keeping,  I  would  not  be  the  sufferer. 


[181 


CHAPTER  VI. 

How  WITH  SOME  ASSISTANCE  I  SUCCEEDED  IN 
PUTTING  DOWN  THE  REBELLION 

Rather  discouraged  with  my  brief  mercantile  ex- 
perience, I  went  back  to  the  case  in  the  office  of  the  Iowa 
State  Reporter  and  worked  until  the  spring  of  1864, 
when,  after  having  my  enlistment  in  three  different 
commands  rejected,  on  account  of'  age  and  lack  of 
physical  equipment,  I  was  accepted  as  a  member  of  a 
company  being  recruited  from  the  students  of  the  Iowa 
State  University,  of  which  Professor  Charles  E.  Bor- 
land was  chosen  captain.  I  was  the  only  member  not  a 
student,  and  was  accepted  only  because,  at  the  depot  on 
the  eve  of  departure,  it  was  discovered  that  the  company 
lacked  one  of  its  quota. 

The  boys  had  marched  under  the  windows  of  the 
Reporter  office  to  the  station.  I  looked  down  upon 
them  but  a  moment;  then,  grasping  coat  and  hat,  I  ran 
home,  a  few  blocks  distant,  bid  my  mother  a  tearful 
farewell,  and  hastened  to  the  railway. 

Fortunately  for  me,  the  ladies  of  the  town  were 
giving  the  boys  a  parting  "feed"  in  a  grove  near  the 
station,  and  I  was  in  time  to  be  enrolled  a  "high  private" 
in  Company  D,  44th  Iowa  Volunteers,  aged  18,  height 
5  ft.  6  in.,  dark  hair,  blue  eyes;  and  prouder  than  a 
Major  General. 

At  2  o'clock  I  had  been  setting  type  on  a  provincial 
weekly  newspaper.  At  6  I  was  cleaning  out  a  bunk  in 
old  Camp  McClellan,  at  Davenport,  on  an  eminence 

[19] 


overlooking  the  Mississippi  River,  sixty  miles  from 
home  and  mother. 

It  had  been  a  strenuous  afternoon,  comprehending  a 
march  of  several  miles  from  the  city,  and  although  the 
barracks  had  a  forbidding  appearance,  I  doubted  not  I 
should  enjoy  a  night's  rest.  But  in  this  I  was  woefully 
disappointed,  and  at  midnight  a  companion  joined  me  in 
a  second  attempt  out  in  the  open,  a  single  army  blanket 
beneath,  and  a  single  army  blanket  above  us. 

Ah!  how  many  times  during  that  long,  restless, 
sleepless  night,  did  thoughts  recur  to  mother  and  the 
snug  bed  at  home! 

In  a  few  days  I  became  accustomed  to  the  hardships 
of  the  service,  and  it  was  not  long  before  our  regiment 
was  being  transported  down  through  the  length  of 
Illinois  in  cattle  cars  to  Cairo,  thence  by  vessel  to  Mem- 
phis, and  eastward  to  the  borders  of  Tennessee  and 
Mississippi,  where  actual  service  at  once  begun,  for  we 
were  in  the  enemy's  country  at  last,  with  the  strictest 
regulations  regarding  picket  and  vidette  duty,  with 
orders  to  shoot  at  every  moving  object. 

Gen'l  A.  J.  Smith's  army  was  at  the  front,  harrassed 
day  and  night  by  the  fast-riding  guerrillas  of  Gen'l 
Forrest's  command,  familiar  with  every  by-road  and 
pass  in  all  that  section,  while  the  disloyal  citizens  of 
Memphis  were  resorting  to  every  device  to  get  food  and 
ammunition  to  the  rough  riders. 

The  battles  of  Guntown  and  Tupelo  followed  quick- 
ly upon  our  arrival,  and  before  the  first  week  had  passed 
the  pampered  students  of  the  Iowa  State  University, 
few  of  whom  had  ever  undergone  any  hardships,  found 
themselves  facing  the  actual  realities  of  grim-visaged 
war. 

My  army  experience,  although  brief,  was  not  wholly 
devoid  of  human  interest.  Enlistment  at  my  age  was 

[20] 


S.    K.    HOOPER 

G.   P.   A.    Denver  and  Rio 

Grande   Railway  Co. 

MAJOR    ,T.     B.     WHEELER 

First   President  Colorado 

Midland  Railway  Co. 


D.     B.     ROBINSON 

Formerly     President 

A.    T.    &    S.    F.    Ry.    Co 

COL.    R.    E.    GOODELL, 

Builder  of  the   Chicago   and 

Alton    Railway 


foolhardy  in  the  extreme,  and  when  the  fact  is  con- 
sidered that  my  mother  already  had  given  to  the  cause 
her  only  other  son,  it  merited  a  harsher  classification.  I 
was  but  eighteen,  however,  and  had  partaken  largely  of 
her  extreme  anti-slavery  views.  I  had  paraded  with 
the  "Wide  Awakes,"  the  marching  organization  of  the 
young  Republican  party,  and  my  loyalty  to  the  Union 
cause  simply  knew  no  bounds.  Rejected  time  and  again 
by  recruiting  officers,  I  had  embraced  what  seemed  to 
be,  and  actually  was,  the  last  opportunity  to  break  into 
the  ranks.  Moreover,  the  martial  music,  borne  to  me 
from  the  street  as  the  University  students  marched  on 
toward  the  railway  station,  had  completely  carried  me 
off  my  feet. 

Had  I  been  given  opportunity  to  reflect  upon  pri- 
mary duty  to  mother,  I  perhaps  would  have  remained  by 
her  side,  great  as  the  sacrifice  would  have  been ;  but  that 
was  denied  me,  for  impulse  rather  than  reason  guided 
my  footsteps.  In  the  circumstances  she  had  abundant 
reason  to  demur,  but  her  approval  of  my  action  was  un- 
tainted with  even  a  shade  of  selfishness  or  vain  regret, 
and  her  "Good-bye,  God  bless  and  keep  you  from  harm," 
was  as  genuine  and  hearty  as  if  the  very  cockles  of  her 
heart  were  not  severely  wrenched. 

Obvious  as  it  seemed  that  I  was  totally  unfit  for  ser- 
vice in  the  field,  it  is  a  fact  that  while  fully  matured  and 
strongly  knit  men  frequently  fell  out  of  the  ranks  and 
were  brought  on  by  ambulances,  during  some  of  the 
more  strenuous  marches  that  fell  to  our  lot,  the  smallest 
bit  of  humanity  in  the  regiment — my  only  distinction  of 
note — never  once  wavered  or  fell  by  the  wayside.  On 
the  contrary,  I  not  infrequently  eased  a  comrade's  bur- 
den by  adding  a  portion  of  it  to  my  own,  although 
handed  down  rather  than  up  to  me. 

What  I  did  in  the  campaign  of  '64  may  scarcely  be 

[21] 


worth  recording,  but  a  reference  to  what  I  saw  may  hold 
the  reader's  attention  for  a  brief  span  at  least. 

Soon  after  arriving  at  Memphis  I  saw  Gen'l  A.  J. 
Smith's  army  of  60,000  men  march  to  the  station  of  the 
Memphis  &  Charleston  railway  and  loaded  on  to  succes- 
sive trains  of  flat  cars,  the  marching  column  as  inspiring 
a  spectacle  as  ever  I  had  witnessed.  Embracing  most  of 
the  18th  Army  Corps,  recently  returned  from  the  dis- 
astrous Red  River  campaign,  the  various  depleted 
commands  recruited  to  their  full  marching  strength,  and 
all  provided  with  fresh  new  uniforms  and  glistening 
armor,  the  gallant  veterans  of  four  years'  arduous  ser- 
vice marched  with  heads  erect  and  hearts  inspired  with 
hopes  of  retrieving  the  disasters  lower  down  the  river. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  saw  that  same  command  return- 
ing from  the  terrific  threshing  administered  at  Tupelo 
and  Guntown — not  in  well-ordered  divisions,  brigades 
and  regiments,  however,  but  as  a  disorganized  mob — 
many  without  arms  or  accoutrements,  marching  deject- 
edly back  to  Memphis,  in  bunches  and  squads  of 
anywhere  from  half  a  dozen  to  a  score  or  more,  whipped 
to  a  frazzle,  whatever  the  historian  may  record  of  the 
disastrous  campaigns  of  General  Sturgis;  and  reaching 
Grand  Junction,  beyond  which  it  was  not  found  possible 
to  operate  the  railway,  a  day  ahead  of  the  main 
command. 

The  wounded  were  there  placed  aboard  cars  and 
rushed  to  the  hospitals  at  Memphis.  Many  of  the 
injured  had  not  even  experienced  the  blessings  of  "first 
aid,"  and  the  wretched  victims  of  rebel  bullets  and 
schrapnel,  many  with  leg  or  arm  missing,  were  strung 
along  the  railway  platform,  some  on  the  floor,  others, 
more  fortunate,  upon  stretchers — all  suffering  for  sur- 
gical and  medical  attention,  food  and  water. 


[22] 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GRUESOME  WORK — MY  FIRST  SHOCK — A  CAPTAIN 
IN  DISGRACE — AN  IRKSOME  DETAIL 

My  regiment  was  detailed  for  this  work,  and  in 
carrying  out  orders  I  experienced  a  shock  that  well  nigh 
paralyzed  me.  In  one  of  the  first  ambulances  that 
backed  up  to  the  station  platform  I  recognized  the 
bleeding  and  disfigured  form  of  my  brother,  stretched 
upon  a  cotton  bale,  well  nigh  exhausted  from  loss  of 
blood  and  want  of  nourishment. 

I  had  not  heard  of  his  being  among  the  wounded, 
and  was  looking  pleasurably  forward  to  a  joyful  re- 
union the  following  day,  when  the  main  command  should 
arrive.  I  only  had  time  to  provide  him  with  such 
articles  of  food  and  drink  as  could  be  purchased  of  the 
sutler  before  he  was  carried  into  the  car  and  whisked 
away  to  Memphis,  perhaps  never  again  to  be  seen  alive. 

Partially  recovered  from  the  shock  of  this  episode, 
I  resumed  my  duties  in  caring  for  others  among  the 
wounded. 

Before  many  minutes  I  was  eye-witness  to  another 
episode,  less  personal  but  more  thrilling,  in  which  Cap- 
tain Borland,  commander  of  my  company,  figured  as 
the  victim  or  culprit,  as  one  may  chose  to  regard  it. 

Before  enlistment  a  professor  in  the  Iowa  State 
University,  a  man  with  splendid  record  as  an  educator, 
in  the  full  flush  of  early  manhood,  esteemed  at  home 
for  his  many  excellent  qualities  of  head  and  heart,  and 
respected  by  the  men  of  the  company,  most  of  whom 

[23] 


had  for  years  been  under  his  direct  instruction — this 
splendid  specimen  of  American  manhood,  without 
previous  blur  upon  his  escutcheon,  and  facing  a  future 
full  of  promise,  sacrificed  all  on  that  fateful  August 
day  to  a  momentary  weakness  of  judgment,  to  a  sudden 
paralysis  of  human  sympathies,  to  an  inexplicable 
surrender  of  manhood. 

The  weather  was  extremely  sultry.  The  resinous 
pine  floor  of  which  the  station  platform  was  constructed, 
and  upon  which  the  wounded  were  loaded,  fairly  sizzled 
under  the  tropical  rays  of  that  August  sun. 

Only  a  meager  supply  of  ice  had  been  obtainable  for 
these  wretched  stricken  men,  and  Captain  Borland  had 
appropriated  a  portion  of  that  for  use  in  his  own  head- 
quarters ! 

The  atrocity  of  this  act  may  not  easily  be  character- 
ized in  words.  I  shall  not  attempt  it.  But  the  discovery 
and  retribution  followed  so  quickly  as  to  rob  the  incident 
of  some  of  its  terrors  in  long  drawn  out  recital. 

Information  speedily  reached  General  Smith,  who, 
with  ill  concealed  indignation,  approached  Captain 
Borland,  and,  tearing  the  epaulettes  from  his  shoulders 
with  one  hand,  and  relieving  him  of  sword  with  the 
other,  sent  him  to  headquarters  under  guard,  later  to  be 
court-martialed,  cashiered,  relieved  of  command,  and 
sent  into  lasting  and  well  earned  ignominy. 

I  never  saw  him  again.  The  unfortunate  episode 
barred  him  from  restoration  to  his  chair  in  the  Uni- 
versity, and  the  disgrace  and  humiliation  followed  him 
to  a  dishonored  grave. 

During  a  portion  of  my  service  at  Grand  Junction  I 
was  detailed  to  guard  a  well,  at  the  home  of  a  prominent 
citizen,  who  it  was  feared  might  poison  the  water  needed 
by  the  troops.  At  first  I  may  have  shared  the  appre- 
hension of  the  commanding  General,  but  before  being 

[241 


relieved  I  almost  came  to  despise  him  for  his  unwarrant- 
ed fears. 

A  noble  Southern  gentleman,  surrounded  by  a 
Christian  family,  impoverished  by  the  vicissitudes  of  a 
most  cruel  war,  he  yet  was  loyal  to  the  stars  and  bars. 
It  would  have  been  little  less  than  natural  or  human  that 
he  should  come  to  hate  me,  for  there  could  be  no  misap- 
prehension of  the  purpose  of  placing  me  there  to  guard 
the  well,  but  if  he  entertained  any  such  sentiment  it  was 
not  disclosed  by  his  attitude  or  that  of  his  family. 

Accepting  it  as  an  unpleasant  though  perhaps  an 
essential  precaution,  and  myself  as  an  innocent  instru- 
ment, all  resentment  was  speedily  swept  aside,  and  my 
enforced  stay  on  his  premises  constitutes  one  of  the 
pleasantest  recollections  of  a  sojourn  not  surcharged 
with  cheerful  episodes. 

Indeed,  long  after  the  war  had  ended  I  wrote  to  this 
gentleman,  asking  that  I  might,  while  journeying 
through  that  section,  pay  a  visit  to  himself  and  family, 
and  thank  them  for  the  courtesies  extended  me  while 
performing  an  unpleasant  duty  at  his  home.  My  letter 
fell  into  the  hands  of  his  executor,  who  courteously  con- 
veyed the  information  that  such  members  of  the  family 
as  had  survived  the  war  had  removed  hence,  leaving  him 
very  little  indeed  to  administer  upon. 


[25] 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHASED  BY  GUERILLAS — BURNING  OF  GRAND  JUNCTION 
FORREST'S  DASH  INTO  MEMPHIS 

General  Forrest's  guerilla  band  was  a  host  to  be 
reckoned  with  in  the  campaign  of  '64  in  Western 
Tennessee  and  Northern  Mississippi.  It  became  im- 
possible for  the  Federals  to  operate  the  railway  beyond 
Grand  Junction,  and  between  that  point  and  Memphis, 
Forrest's  men  frequently  made  a  dash  to  the  line  and 
hastily  removed  a  few  rails  or  cut  the  telegraph  wires. 

Dave  Wooten,  chief  telegraph  repairer,  with  a 
considerable  force  of  linemen,  was  kept  exceedingly  busy 
maintaining  communication  between  Memphis  and  the 
front.  With  a  detail  of  four  men,  I  accompanied  him 
upon  one  of  these  repairing  expeditions,  and  narrowly 
escaped  capture  and  a  term  in  some  one  of  the  Southern 
prisons.  Wooten,  from  the  top  of  a  sixty-foot  pole, 
espied  a  troop  of  cavalry  debouching  from  some  low- 
lying  hills  but  a  few  miles  from  the  railway.  From  his 
vantage  point  he  soon  made  out  that  they  were  Con- 
federates, and  that  they  were  bearing  down  directly 
upon  us.  There  were,  perhaps,  fifty  men  in  the  troop, 
whereas  we  had  but  six  rifles  and  our  side  arms. 

Obviously  discretion  was  more  commendable  than 
valor,  and  without  waste  of  a  moment's  time  our  party 
were  loaded  upon  the  hand-car  and  speeding  down  the 
track  at  thirty  miles  an  hour.  The  men  worked  the 
double  lever  with  exceeding  great  energy,  and  before 
the  "rebs"  could  get  within  rifle  range  we  were  out  of 
harm's  way. 

[26] 


In  my  haste  I  had  forgotten  a  much-prized  silver 
watch  that  I  had  hung  to  a  telegraph  pole,  and  that  is 
all  the  "Johnnies"  got  for  their  long  chase.  It  constituted 
a  very  amusing  episode,  though  I  fear  I  may  have  failed 
to  make  it  appear  as  such. 

The  capture  of  Wooten  would  have  been  a  great  loss 
to  the  army,  since  he  was  one  of  the  most  skillful,  daring 
and  intrepid  wiremen  in  the  employ  of  the  government. 

Sometime  in  August,  '64, 1  was  a  member  of  a  squad 
detailed  to  conduct  to  Memphis  a  number  of  guerillas 
captured  in  the  neighborhood  of  Grand  Junction.  The 
expedition  almost  culminated  in  the  capture  of  our 
entire  party. 

In  the  early  morning  of  the  day  following  our 
arrival,  and  before  time  to  return  to  the  front,  General 
Forrest  and  a  rather  formidable  troop  of  cavalry  made 
a  wholly  unlooked-for  dash  into  the  city  from  the  south, 
looted  the  Gayoso  house,  a  number  of  banks  and  mer- 
cantile establishments,  and  were  out  again  to  the  north 
before  more  than  a  fraction  of  the  Federal  troops  or 
citizens  were  aware  of  their  presence. 

A  detachment  of  "Johnnies"  stormed  a  building  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  city,  the  Pemberton  Block,  used  for 
the  confinement  of  rebel  prisoners,  but  the  heavy  guard 
stationed  there  succeeded  in  beating  them  off.  It  was  a 
hot  engagement,  the  first  I  had  witnessed,  and  when 
fully  assured  that  the  Confederates  had  withdrawn  from 
the  city  and  were  not  likely  to  return,  I  began  to  appre- 
ciate the  hazard  of  the  experience. 

There  were  a  sufficient  number  of  Union  soldiers  in 
Memphis  to  have  overwhelmed  Forrest  and  his  little 
band,  had  time  enough  been  allowed  to  form  and  march 
into  the  city,  whereas  to  the  eastward,  within  two  hours 
run  from  Memphis,  was  an  army  of  60,000  men. 

Perfect  knowledge  of  the  country  gave  to  Forrest 

[27] 


an  immense  advantage  in  his  operations.  His  troop 
was  always  well  mounted,  and  it  was  possible  for  him,  at 
almost  any  time,  to  duplicate  his  August  dash  into 
Memphis. 

Successful  in  surprising  and  capturing  the  pickets 
on  the  outskirts,  at  break  of  day,  within  an  hour  his 
troopers  were  dashing  through  the  main  streets  of  the 
city,  to  the  infinite  delight  of  its  disloyal  citizens,  and  the 
corresponding  terror  of  the  smaller  bunches  of  Federals, 
stationed  here  and  there  to  guard  prisoners  and  stores. 

General  Washburn,  commanding  the  department  of 
Western  Tennessee,  a  guest  of  the  Gayoso  House  at  the 
time,  barely  escaped  in  his  nightclothes  to  the  river, 
whence  he  was  rowed  to  the  protecting  walls  of  Fort 
Pickering.  It  was  a  rather  undignified  spectacle  for  a 
Major  General  to  present,  and  contributed  much  to  the 
gayety  of  camp  life  when  the  facts  became  known. 

Mistaking  the  sortie  for  an  advance  in  force  upon 
Memphis,  General  Smith  was  ordered  up  with  his  army 
from  Holly  Springs.  Before  he  reached  the  city,  Forrest 
was  following  up  and  harrassing  his  rear,  having  made 
a  wide  detour  and  got  in  behind  the  Union  forces. 

The  order  for  Smith's  return  to  Memphis  was  tan- 
tamount to  the  abandonment  of  most  of  the  country 
between  that  city  and  Holly  Springs. 

Before  the  war  Grand  Junction  had  been  a  somewhat 
noted  educational  center,  boasting  of  a  college  and  a 
seminary.  The  buildings  of  these  institutions  presented 
a  mournful  spectacle  when  we  were  there,  having  been 
targets  for  the  heavy  artillery  of  the  Union  army. 

The  town  and  its  environs  possessed  many  beautiful 
homes,  and  those  on  the  outskirts  had  protected  our  men 
on  picket  and  vidette  duty  through  many  storms  of  that 
summer. 

My  last  view  of  the  once  handsome  little  city  was 

[28] 


filled  with  genuine  sadness,  since  the  order  had  been 
given  that  all  should  be  handed  over  to  the  torch  when 
the  last  of  the  troops  and  the  stores  had  been  loaded,  and 
the  trains  were  ready  to  pull  out  for  Memphis.  Great 
clouds  of  smoke  were  being  poured  into  the  heavens 
from  all  points  of  the  compass,  lurid  flames  lept  high  in 
air,  and  doubtless  before  the  last  train  had  departed  all 
that  was  beautiful  and  artistic  in  Grand  Junction  had 
been  wiped  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Prior  to  that  time,  the  country  for  miles  around  in 
every  direction  had  been  completely  devastated.  There 
was  left  scarcely  a  habitation,  a  barn,  fence  or  corral, 
within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles.  Planters  who  had 
not  joined  the  Confederate  army,  together  with  their 
families  and  servants,  had  moved  into  Grand  Junction, 
existing  I  know  not  how,  and  the  spectacle  I  witnessed, 
of  their  last  shelters  going  up  in  flames  and  smoke,  was 
one  well  calculated  to  move  the  dullest  heart. 

Many  of  the  soldiers  were  loaded  on  flat  cars,  from 
which  their  vision  was  unobscured  on  either  side.  Among 
these  was  a  company  from  a  State  I  will  not  disgrace  by 
naming,  the  members  of  which,  as  the  train  moved  east- 
ward, amused  themselves  by  shooting  at  every  living 
object  along  the  right  of  way,  human  as  well  as  beast. 

Taking  no  heed  of  a  warning  sent  forward  by  the 
officer  in  command,  the  train  was  brought  to  a  stop,  the 
offenders  to  a  man  unloaded,  and  compelled  to  march 
into  Memphis,  a  hard  two  days'  jaunt,  through  a  barren 
waste,  with  scant  rations. 

The  punishment  visited  upon  this  merciless  band, 
who,  had  they  been  sailors  would  have  been  pirates,  met 
with  the  spontaneous  approval  of  their  comrades,  and 
when  the  import  of  the  order  came  to  be  understood,  a 
shout  of  approval  went  up  from  thousands  of  throats 
calculated  to  drown  the  thundering  noise  of  the  trains. 

[29] 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  NEAR  TRAGEDY — THRILLING  RECAPTURE  OF  COLORS 
A  REGIMENT  SHOT  INTO  BITS 

Arriving  at  Memphis,  our  regiment  went  into  camp 
at  Jackson  Spring,  five  miles  eastward,  and  there  en- 
joyed well  earned  rest  from  a  rather  strenuous  summer's 
campaign  down  in  the  enemy's  country. 

Here,  while  on  vidette  duty,  perhaps  two  miles  from 
camp,  a  rather  humorous  incident  occurred.  My  brother, 
from  his  camp  on  the  opposite  side  of  Memphis,  had 
sent  his  colored  servant  with  a  note  to  my  Captain, 
requesting  that  I  be  permitted  to  visit  him  in  the  field 
hospital  there. 

The  darkey  was  directed  to  the  vidette  post  where  I 
was  supposed  to  be  stationed,  and,  as  he  approached,  I 
gave  the  command  to  "halt." 

Paying  not  the  slightest  heed  to  my  order,  he  con- 
tinued to  advance,  displaying,  as  he  did  so,  a  matchless 
set  of  teeth,  and  grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

Under  the  strictest  orders  to  shoot  any  living  thing 
that  failed  to  respond  to  a  challenge,  I  repeated  the 
command  to  halt,  at  the  same  time  bringing  my  rifle  to 
bear  directly  upon  the  smiling  darkey.  My  obvious  de- 
termination not  to  permit  him  to  approach  at  last 
reached  his  inner  consciousness,  and  he  called  out : 

"Is  you  Mistah  Davis  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  sah,  Mistah  Davis,  I  dun  been  sent  heah  by 
your  brother,  Major  Davis,  to  bring  you  over  to  where 
he  is,  and  I'll  be  glad,  sah,  if  you'll  quit  pintin'  that  gun 

[30] 


at  me,  cause  I'm  your  brother's  orderly,  and  he  wouldn't 
like  to  have  me  shot  for  doin'  it,  no  sah !" 

Needless  to  say,  I  lowered  my  rifle,  and  gave  the 
grinning  darkey  the  welcome  desired. 

Sorry  was  the  sight  witnessed  at  my  brother's  camp. 
Of  the  fully  recruited  regiment  of  a  thousand  and  one 
men,  before  the  summer  campaign  began,  less  than  one 
hundred  were  able  to  respond  to  the  call  for  dress 
parade,  nor  was  there  a  commissioned  or  non-commis- 
sioned officer  in  the  entire  command  who  had  escaped 
death  or  more  or  less  serious  injury,  incapacitating  him 
for  duty. 

While  in  this  camp  I  was  the  guest  of  the  Drum 
Major,  a  warm  friend  of  my  brother,  who  helped  me  to 
a  better  understanding  of  the  latter's  mishap  at  the 
front,  and  how  it  was  occasioned. 

At  the  battle  of  Tupelo,  a  stand  of  colors,  presented 
to  the  regiment  by  the  ladies  of  Columbus,  Ohio,  had 
been  captured,  and  my  brother,  astride  a  white  horse, 
and  wearing  a  white  linen  duster,  dashed  into  the 
enemy's  ranks,  recovered  the  flag,  and,  wrapping  it 
about  his  body,  wheeled  and  flew  back  to  his  command — 
but  not  until  he  had  received  an  almost  mortal  wound 
in  the  neck  and  face,  the  ball  just  missing  the  jugular 
vein  and  piercing  his  right  cheek. 

Needless  to  say,  I  was  highly  elated  over  this  thrill- 
ing narrative,  and  later  read,  with  more  than  ordinary 
interest,  the  newspaper  accounts  that  had  been  given  of 
the  heroic  act  of  my  brother.  For  it  he  was  promoted  to 
Lieutenant  Colonel  and  Brevet  Colonel,  and  detached 
for  duty  at  the  War  Department,  soon  becoming  the 
confidential  military  aide  attached  to  the  person  of 
Edwin  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War.  He  was  with 
that  distinguished  personage  all  through  the  trying 
period  following  the  assassination  of  Lincoln.  At  the 

[31] 


close  of  the  rebellion  he  was  commissioned  Captain  in 
the  Regular  Army,  assigned  to  the  8th  U.  S.  Cavalry, 
and  served  until  1874  in  various  Indian  campaigns,  at 
one  time  being  in  command  at  Fort  Yuma.  After  re- 
tirement he  was  happily  married  and  settled  in  San 
Francisco,  his  bride  a  daughter  of  General  Kirkham, 
and  the  first  offspring  named  "Stanton"  Davis.  He  was 
appointed  Superintendent  of  the  Mint  at  San  Francisco 
by  President  Johnson,  and  later  was  appointed  and  con- 
firmed as  Minister  to  China.  While  preparing  for  this 
mission  he  was  attacked  by  a  fatal  illness,  and  within  an 
incredibly  short  time  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  Kirkham 
family  vault  at  Oakland. 


[32] 


CHAPTER  X. 

EMBARKED  FOR  HOME — THRILLING  STEAMBOAT  RACE 
BETWEEN  Two  RIVER  LEVIATHANS 

If  any  verification  were  needed  of  the  truth  of  Gen'l 
Sherman's  declaration  that  "War  is  hell,"  it  was  plainly 
visible  in  all  that  I  witnessed  in  Tennessee  and 
Mississippi  in  the  last  year  of  the  frightful  fratricidal 
struggle.  It  was  in  the  very  atmosphere,  on  the  face  of 
the  landscape  everywhere,  stamped  upon  the  counte- 
nances of  the  people,  suggested  in  the  drawn  features  of 
soldiers  and  citizens  alike,  whether  Unionist  or 
Confederate,  and  seemed  even  to  have  been  impressed 
upon  the  brute  creation.  Torch  and  sword  had  indeed 
wrought  fearful  havoc,  and  left  that  entire  section  of 
the  country  a  blackened  waste,  from  which  recovery 
seemed  at  the  time  almost  hopeless. 

I  was  glad  when  my  term  of  enlistment  expired,  and 
rejoiced  that  the  government,  seeing  the  end  in  sight, 
no  longer  required  the  services  of  self  and  comrades.  I 
longed  to  have  the  veil  drawn  and  the  terrible  scenes  of 
carnage,  of  bloodshed,  of  ruined  cities,  of  wrecked 
homes  and  devastated  fields,  shut  out  from  view — if  it 
might  never  be  from  memory. 

I  was  not  nearly  so  enthusiastic  a  warrior  at  the 
close  as  at  the  beginning.  My  appetite  for  glory  was 
appeased  without  having  absorbed  much  of  it.  My 
loyalty  was  as  dependable,  though  my  zeal  had  precept- 
ibly  diminished,  and  whereas  I  never  wavered  in  my 
devotion  to  the  Union,  I  yet  came  away  from  the  South 
with  revised  opinions  of  its  people,  and  the  strongest 

[33] 


possible  conviction  that  they  believed  in  the  justice  of 
their  cause,  and  were  battling  for  it  with  all  the  sincerity 
and  hopefulness  and  trust  of  inspired  patriots.  My 
profound  sympathies  for  them  in  their  deep  distress  and 
almost  hopeless  prostration  had  been  ineradicably  en- 
listed, inspiring  me  with  respect  that  has  survived  to  this 
day  and  hour. 

We  were  to  return  as  we  had  come,  by  vessel  to 
Cairo,  thence  by  rail  to  the  muster-out  camp.  Our  regi- 
ment was  packed,  veritably  like  sardines  in  a  box,  aboard 
the  steamer  "City  of  Alton,"  while  a  sister  steamer,  the 
"Warsaw" — two  of  the  largest  vessels  in  the  lower 
Mississippi  river  trade — was  similarly  packed  with 
troops  of  other  commands. 

The  two  leviathans  backed  out  from  their  slips 
practically  at  the  same  moment,  and,  before  the  grim 
walls  of  Fort  Pickering  had  faded  from  view  it  was 
plainly  apparent  that  a  race  was  on.  When  the  famous 
Island  No.  10,  a  few  miles  above  Memphis,  was  passed, 
the  vessels  were  abreast,  and,  during  the  long  leg  to 
Cairo  there  was  scarcely  a  moment  when  there  was  a 
boat's  length  between  them. 

Down  in  the  engine  room  the  members  of  the  lusty 
black  crew  were  ceaselessly  charging  the  capacious 
maws  of  the  furnaces  with  fuel — first  with  wood,  then 
with  oil — each  fully  realizing  the  importance  of  never- 
flagging  zeal  in  firing,  and  straining  every  muscle  to 
outdo  their  fellows  of  the  Warsaw,  each  as  ambitious  as 
the  skipper  to  win  a  victory  over  the  rival  craft. 

Officers  monopolized  the  state  rooms  between  decks, 
and  made  futile  efforts  to  snatch  a  little  sleep,  while  the 
hurricane  deck  was  crowded  with  private  soldiers, 
racing  from  stem  to  stern,  noting  every  lurch  of  both 
vessels,  lustily  cheering  when  the  "City  of  Alton" 
seemed  to  be  gaining,  and  correspondingly  depressed 

[34] 


when  the  "Warsaw"  showed  a  trifle  advantage.  There 
was  no  provision  for  sleeping,  and  it  is  questionable  if 
any  would  have  embraced  it  had  there  been,  so  tense  was 
the  feeling  aboard,  so  concerned  in  the  contest  that  never 
for  a  moment  lagged. 

The  spectacle  was  indeed  inspiring.  The  river  was 
running  full,  the  night  was  pitchy  black,  the  lights  from 
the  cabin  windows  cast  a  shimmer  upon  the  rushing 
waters,  and  ever  and  anon,  when  the  furnace  doors  were 
opened  to  receive  a  fresh  supply  of  fuel,  long  fingers  of 
flame  shot  out,  lighting  all  of  the  decks  for  an  instant 
as  by  a  noon-day  sun,  and  illuminating  the  dense 
growths  of  stately  pines  on  either  side  of  the  river. 
These  periodical  flashes  of  flame  lasted  but  a  moment, 
and  by  their  intensity  accentuated  the  blackness  of  the 
night  with  their  disappearance. 

Before  midnight  the  excitement  among  the  spec- 
tators had  developed  almost  into  a  frenzy.  Each  fairly 
fought  for  a  place  at  the  rail,  and  so  densely  were  the 
men  packed  on  the  side  overlooking  the  competing 
vessel  that  the  "Alton"  was  seen  to  be  listing  heavily, 
while  the  same  condition  obviously  obtained  on  the 
"Warsaw." 

Discipline  had  become  so  relaxed  among  the  men 
that  orders  were  wholly  disregarded,  and  it  became 
necessary,  before  morning,  to  mount  guard  on  the  hur- 
ricane deck,  and  force  the  soldiers  back  from  the  rail  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  boat, 
to  prevent  it  from  capsizing. 

The  sun  rose  next  morning  upon  a  weary  host,  not  a 
member  of  which  had  closed  an  eye,  nor  did  the  distri- 
bution of  the  morning  ration  with  hot  coffee  seem  to 
relax  interest  in  the  contest  between  the  two  great 
vessels  for  supremacy  on  the  Father  of  Waters. 

Both  drew  into  Cairo  as  the  shades  of  night  were 

[35] 


falling,  each  docking  at  a  different  pier,  and  neither  with 
the  advantage  of  five  minutes  in  its  favor. 

Record  time  was  made,  and  for  many  years  after 
the  war  the  famous  race  between  the  "Warsaw"  and 
the  "City  of  Alton"  was  a  familiar  topic  for  gossip 
among  steamboatmen  of  the  lower  Mississippi. 

Upon  arriving  at  Davenport  I  learned  that  a  near 
relative,  Col.  Henry  Parkhurst,  was  the  paymaster,  a 
circumstance  I  availed  myself  of  to  secure  discharge 
and  pay  check  in  advance  of  comrades,  and  to  reach 
home  days  ahead  of  them. 

That  was  a  trick  I  should  not  be  proud  of,  but  when 
my  age  at  the  time  is  considered,  the  reader,  I  feel  cer- 
tain, will  be  disposed  to  cover  it  with  the  mantle  of 
charity.  If  I  may  not  successfully  plead  age  in  this 
instance,  I  at  least  may  be  privileged  to  suggest  the 
consciousness  that  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  a 
waiting  mother  longed  to  see  her  baby  boy. 


[36] 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PATHS  OF  PEACE — EXPERIENCES  AS  A  TRAMP  PRINTER 
"BEARDLESS  EDITOR  OF  EGYPT" 

Three  months  later,  just  past  18  years  of  age,  found 
me  the  editor  and  publisher  of  the  Olney  Record,  a 
weekly  journal  of  some  note  in  the  "Egypt"  of  Illinois. 

Strange  how  the  fate  of  individuals  is  controlled 
and  directed  by  circumstances  trivial  in  themselves! 
Working  my  way  from  town  to  town  through  Iowa  and 
Illinois,  as  journeyman  printers  were  wont  to  do  fifty 
years  ago,  I  arrived  in  St.  Louis  at  an  inopportune  time, 
just  as  a  strike  of  compositors  was  being  inaugurated. 
I  had  joined  the  Union  at  Peoria,  and,  with  a  traveling 
card  in  my  pocket,  I  fancied  myself  secure  from  calamity 
of  any  nature  whatever.  But  I  had  not  counted  on  the 
perversity  of  the  "walking  delegate,"  nor  did  the  ple- 
thora of  my  purse  assure  me  continuing  meal  tickets. 
But  your  average  American  boy  may  be  counted  upon 
to  make  good  under  almost  any  conceivable  train  of 
circumstances,  as  I  did  in  this  case. 

Charles  R.  Bell  was  my  "angel."  He  possessed  a 
trunk  full  of  silver  polish.  I  yet  possessed  a  few  pieces 
of  coined  silver.  Result :  a  merger,  and  one  not  contem- 
plated by  the  Interstate  Commerce  act.  We  took  to  the 
road  to  sell  the  commodity,  following  the  line  of  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  railway,  until  Olney  was  reached. 
There  I  found  conditions  not  only  to  my  liking,  but 
apparently  shaped  accurately  to  my  needs. 

The  polish  business  had  not  been  excessively  remu- 
nerative for  two.  We  had  a  considerable  quantity  of 

[37] 


the  silver  polish  yet  in  stock,  but  most  of  my  coined 
silver  had  been  parted  with  along  the  trail.  I  placed  the 
few  remaining  pieces  in  Bell's  palm,  "God  blessed"  him 
two  or  three  times,  and  sent  him  on  his  way  down  the 
pike. 

For  myself  a  job  was  waiting.  A  little  coterie  of 
local  politicians  and  office-holders  owned  a  newspaper 
plant,  but  their  paid  manager  was  indulging  a  pro- 
tracted spree,  and  the  prospects  of  an  issue  of  the  paper 
that  week  were  exceedingly  meager. 

Could  I  write  locals,  editorials,  set  type  and  operate 
a  Washington  hand  press?  That  was  the  complex 
question  fired  at  me  by  the  interested  parties  on  the  day 
of  my  arrival,  which  chanced  to  be  a  Sunday.  To  all 
these  I  could  readily  answer  in  the  affirmative.  One 
more:  "Do  you  drink?"  To  this  a  most  emphatic  nega- 
tive. So,  on  Monday  morning,  I  was  given  full  charge 
of  the  plant — all  profits  to  me,  no  assessments  upon  the 
stockholders. 

In  the  absence  of  any  other  distinctive  feature  or 
circumstance,  the  fact  that  I  was  the  youngest  editor  in 
Illinois,  if  not  in  the  universe,  attracted  some  attention 
to  the  Olney  paper.  People  who  had  no  interest  there  or 
concern  for  the  journal  or  what  it  represented,  yet  were 
curious  to  see  what  a  19-year-old  kid  might  have  to  say 
upon  national  issues. 

I  believe  I  made  good,  at  least  for  a  time,  and  while 
the  cards  were  dealt  to  me  straight.  But  at  the  first 
recurring  election  every  one  of  my  stockholders  was 
knocked  out  at  the  polls,  and  speedily  lost  interest  in 
maintaining  a  partisan  paper.  I  had  no  continuing  con- 
tract with  them,  and  apprehensive  that  they  might 
embrace  the  first  opportunity  to  rid  themselves  of 
responsibility,  I  anticipated  the  event  by  surrendering 
my  charge  while  yet  my  fame  as  the  "Beardless  Editor 

[38] 


of  Egypt"  was  at  its  zenith,  and  withdrew  with  what 
honors  I  had  earned. 

Once  more  on  the  road!  To  Vincennes,  Louisville, 
Cincinnati,  Portsmouth,  Parkersburg,  Wheeling,  and  on 
to  Pittsburg.  Then,  doubling  back  on  the  trail,  I  again 
landed  at  Cincinnati,  destined  to  become  my  abiding 
place  until  1872. 


[39] 


CHAPTER  XII. 

JUVENILE  MISSIONARY  WORK  IN  THE  QUEEN  CITY 
YIELDS  HANDSOME  RETURNS 

While  in  Cincinnati  I  was  variously  employed  on  the 
Enquirer,  the  Times  and  the  Chronicle,  my  sojourn  there 
being  quite  without  notable  event  until  the  close. 

I  had  become  interested  in,  and  attached  to,  the 
"Union  Bethel,"  a  mission  on  the  river  front  doing  a 
vast  amount  of  practical  good  among  the  riff-raff  of  the 
Queen  City.  My  assignment  was  to  the  Sunday  School, 
which  boasted  5,000  pupils,  a  few  of  them  old  enough 
to  be  my  grandfather,  and  some  of  whom  had  to  be 
taught  the  alphabet. 

My  efforts  in  this  mission  work,  a  side  issue  of 
course,  and  calling  for  my  services  mainly  on  Sundays, 
awakened  the  attention  of  Henry  A.  Manning,  a  silver 
merchant,  who,  although  doing  a  prosperous  business, 
was  yet  doing  it  on  borrowed  capital.  Aware  of  this 
fact,  he  would  have  been  the  last  of  my  acquaintances  to 
whom  I  should  have  appealed  for  assistance  in  an 
emengency. 

He  one  day  approached  me  with  the  somewhat 
startling  proposition  that  I  must  leave  Cincinnati.  He 
had  noted  my  failing  health,  and  possibly  the  exhibition 
of  a  degree  of  energy  and  ambition  not  consistent  with 
it,  and  had  concluded  that,  if  I  desired  to  remain  on 
earth  and  continue  to  provide  for  my  dependents,  I  must 
seek  a  change  of  climate  and  environment,  and  to  some 
extent  relax  my  all  too  ambitious  struggle. 

Had  I  at  the  time  known  he  had  not  a  cent  of  his 

[40] 


HON    MATT    PARROTT 

Ex-Lieut.    Governor    of 

Iowa 

FRANK    A.     VAUGHN 

Printer-Poet   of  the   Rockies 


COL.     NAT    DANIELS 
Beau  Brummel   of  Leadville 


HENRY    A.    MANNING 

Manning,    Bowman    &   Co., 

New    York 

WM.  N.   BYERS 

Founder   Rocky   Mountain 

News 

HON.    DAVID    DAY 

Oracle    of    the    Spanish 

Peaks 


own  to  loan  me,  I  certainly  would  have  refused  his 
proffer  of  financial  assistance,  but  the  information  only 
came  to  me  years  after  that  the  funds  with  which  I  was 
"set  up"  in  business  for  myself  in  a  distant  State  were 
borrowed  by  my  benefactor  in  driblets  of  a  hundred 
here  and  two  hundred  there,  wherever  he  could  lay 
hands  on  the  money. 

"Find  the  opportunity,  my  boy,  and  I  will  do  the 
rest,"  was  his  kindly  and  earnest  assurance;  and  thus 
it  came  about  that  the  only  outside  assistance  I  ever 
had  came  from  one  in  no  way  related  and  under  no 
obligations  to  me. 

It  was  an  episode  quite  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  yet 
so  possible  of  repetition,  in  like  circumstances  and  con- 
ditions, as  to  encourage  the  more  youthful  reader  of 
these  lines  to  so  conduct  himself,  in  all  the  relations  of 
life,  as  to  merit  just  such  assistance  at  a  critical  juncture 
as  was  forced  upon  me. 

By  means  of  advertising  far  and  wide,  I  soon  had 
numerous  proposals  to  invest  the  borrowed  funds  in  an 
established  newspaper  plant,  from  which  my  choice  fell 
upon  one  coming  from  St.  Charles,  Mo.,  a  city  of  only 
5,000  people,  although  its  birth  antedated  St.  Louis. 
Indeed,  I  was  told  that  a  hundred  years  previous  to  my 
advent  there  it  was  a  common  custom  to  address  letters 
to  St.  Louis,  "near  St.  Charles,"  the  additional  direction 
being  considered  essential  to  its  proper  dispatch. 

The  newspaper  purchased,  with  its  robust  mortgage 
attachment,  was  the  Cosmos,  the  oldest  weekly  pub- 
lication in  Missouri,  and  as  if  to  add  to  the  aroma  of 
antiquity  of  the  journal,  it  was  pointed  out  that  upon  the 
identical  spot  where  the  office  was  located  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  were  first  raised  over  the  entire  Upper  Louisiana 
country  after  its  cession  to  the  United  States  by 
Napoleon. 

[41] 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DECIDED  TO  LOCATE  IN  A  FIELD  WHERE  I  WAS  NEITHER 
NEEDED  NOR  WANTED 

Thus,  at  twenty  six  years  of  age,  I  again  embarked 
on  a  strange  craft,  and  in  new  and  troublesome  waters, 
taking  chances  that  an  older  and  wiser  person  would 
surely  have  shrunk  from.  The  population  of  city  and 
county  was  about  evenly  divided  between  Germans  and 
Americans,  but  even  that  would  not  have  been  so  bad 
for  me  had  not  political  lines  been  so  unfortunately 
drawn,  the  Republican  party  being  made  up  almost 
wholly  of  Germans,  who  had  two  papers  printed  in  their 
own  language  to  support ;  albeit  the  American  residents 
of  this  border  county  of  a  border  State,  still  unrecon- 
structed and  unreconciled  to  the  defeat  of  the  Confeder- 
acy, could  not  be  expected  to  look  with  much  favor  upon 
a  Republican  journal,  edited  by  a  Yankee  ex-Federal 
soldier. 

As  I  regard  it  now,  my  decision  to  locate  in  such  a 
place,  in  the  circumstances,  was  the  very  concrete 
essence  of  journalistic  madness.  It  was  obvious,  al- 
though I  did  not  recognize  it  at  the  time,  I  was  neither 
needed  nor  wanted  at  St.  Charles.  Had  I  been  less 
egotistic,  I  should  not  have  settled  there,  and  yet,  had  I 
been  less  bold  and  courageous  in  defending  my  convic- 
tions, I  should  have  failed  to  command  the  respect  of 
either  nationality  or  political  faction.  That  I  met  with 
even  a  modicum  of  success  is  certainly  creditable  to  my 
management,  for  there  was  not  a  feature  of  the 
situation  in  my  favor. 

[42] 


Singularly  enough,  a  great  disaster  that  befell  the 
city  soon  after  I  began  operations  there,  a  calamity  in 
the  ultimate  results  of  which  I  was  naturally  supposed 
to  share,  opened  the  way  to  placing  every  resident  of 
St.  Charles  under  lasting  obligations  to  me,  and  from 
that  day  my  triumph  over  all  obstacles  was  assured. 

The  principal,  and  indeed  about  the  only,  industrial 
establishment  in  the  city,  was  the  repair  shops  of  the 
North  Missouri  Railway,  now  a  link  in  the  Wabash 
system.  Some  fifteen  hundred  mouths  were  fed  from 
the  robust  pay-roll  of  this  concern.  I  had  hardly  cast 
my  little  craft  adrift  when  the  shops  were  removed  to 
Moberly. 

With  almost  a  third  of  the  population  directly  or 
indirectly  dependent  upon  the  industry,  the  effect  upon 
business  and  credits,  and  all  of  the  multifarious  affairs 
of  life,  in  that  little  world,  may  perhaps  be  inferred.  The 
announcement  of  the  calamity  came  like  a  bolt  from  the 
blue,  only  it  promised  to  prove  more  disastrous  than  a 
hundred  bolts  from  aerial  batteries. 

Citizens  of  every  class  were  terribly  depressed,  for 
all  were  sufferers,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  vain  re- 
grets and  bemoanings  of  their  fate.  Values  went  to 
smash  almost  instantly,  money  tightened  in  the  local 
banks,  credit  was  partially  suspended,  and  an  almost 
impenetrable  gloom  settled  over  the  community. 

At  once  realizing  that  I  was  up  against  a  very  serious 
problem,  I  speedily  brought  to  bear  upon  its  solution 
every  faculty  in  my  possession. 

"Why  is  not  St.  Charles  as  good  a  point  as  any  for 
the  manufacture  of  cars  by  an  independent  company?" 
I  asked,  and  speedily  gave  myself  to  the  task  of  disclos- 
ing a  reason,  should  there  be  one. 

Without  consultation  with  any  one,  I  slipped  away 
to  St.  Louis,  to  Litchfield,  and  to  Dayton,  where  inde- 

[43] 


pendent  car  shops  were  in  successful  operation,  and  soon 
I  was  able  to  return  with  such  a  mass  of  favorable 
statistics  as  to  convince  local  capitalists  that  I  was 
entirely  correct  in  my  judgment,  although  it  was  more 
an  inspiration  than  a  deliberate  operation  of  the  mind. 

I  will  not  say  it  was  easy  to  interest  capital,  for  the 
fact  that  a  great  railway  had,  at  considerable  sacrifice, 
abandoned  the  city  for  a  site  elsewhere  that  seemed 
superior,  was  everywhere  urged  as  an  off-set  to  my 
claims.  But  eventually  I  succeeded  in  securing  sub- 
scriptions to  $150,000  of  the  stock  of  a  new  company 
which  I  launched,  although  unable  to  take  a  single  share 
for  myself.  Within  a  year  the  new  industry  was  in 
operation,  and  since  has  developed  into  one  of  the 
largest  and  most  prosperous  car  building  industries  in 
the  country. 

Directly  I  profited  not  a  cent  for  the  expenditure  of 
time  and  effort,  but  my  success  caused  all  classes  of 
people  to  sit  up  and  take  notice  of  me,  and  in  after  years, 
when  visiting  St.  Charles,  the  management  honored  my 
call  with  generous  blasts  of  the  factory  whistle  and 
liberal  clangs  of  the  factory  bells. 

After  all,  I  believe  the  average  man  cares  more  for 
the  approval  of  his  fellows  than  for  sordid  gain.  At  all 
events  I  was  mightily  proud  of  my  first  achievement  in 
the  line  of  promotion. 

Indeed  so  deeply  was  I  impressed  with  my  achieve- 
ment and  its  promised  consequences,  that  I  at  once  began 
investigation  in  another  direction,  in  the  fond  hope 
that,  possibly,  I  might  add  another  factory  and  another 
pay-roll  to  the  city's  productive  industries. 

A  strip  of  land,  mainly  alluvial,  between  the  Missis- 
sippi and  Missouri  rivers,  so  narrow  that  both  streams 
may  be  seen  from  the  same  vantage  point,  annually 
produced  three  million  bushels  of  corn.  This  was  known 

[44] 


as  "St.  Charles  White,"  and  so  excellent  was  it  that  all 
first  grade  corn  in  the  St.  Louis  market  was  and  con- 
tinues to  be  sold  under  that  name.  Oftentimes,  however, 
the  crop  did  not  warrant  shipment,  and  instances  were 
frequent  where  it  was  employed  as  fuel. 

I  sent  a  sample  to  the  leading  chemists  of  St.  Louis, 
developing  the  unlooked-for  fact  that  the  corn  contained 
a  greater  quantity  of  starch  properties  than  the  product 
of  any  other  section  of  the  country. 

Supplementing  this  encouraging  information  with 
ample  data  as  to  the  profit  of  manufacture,  I  had  little 
difficulty  in  financing  the  new  project  of  a  starch  factory 
among  home  capitalists,  mainly  those  who  had  sub- 
scribed to  the  stock  of  the  car  company.  Then  all  that 
remained  to  be  done  was  to  interest  a  practical  starch 
maker. 

While  casting  about  for  such  an  essential,  my  eye 
caught  a  three  line  telegram  from  Kansas  City  to  the 
St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat,  to  the  effect  that 

"A  party  of  Englishmen  are  here,  looking  for  a  site 
for  a  starch  factory." 

The  fates,  apparently,  were  playing  directly  into  my 
hands,  and  this  relation  of  what  followed  will  give  the 
people  of  Kansas  City  the  first  authentic  explanation  of 
how  it  missed  securing  a  big  industry  when  little  re- 
mained but  detail.  I  took  the  next  train  for  Kansas 
City. 

Encountering  Col.  Van  Horn,  veteran  editor  of  the 
Journal,  on  the  street,  he  invited  me  to  attend  a  special 
meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trade,  called  to  consider  the 
starch  proposition. 

The  avidity  with  which  I  embraced  this  wholly 
unlooked-for  opportunity  to  learn  all  that  was  to  be 
known  about  the  matter  would  have  struck  my  journal- 
istic friend  with  amazement,  had  he  been  anything  of  a 

[45] 


mind-reader;  but  inasmuch  as  he  graciously  suggested 
that  the  building  of  a  factory  in  Kansas  City  would  open 
a  new  market  for  "St.  Charles  White,"  my  all  too  ob- 
vious enthusiasm  was  accounted  for. 

The  meeting  lasted  two  hours,  and  resulted  in  a 
proposal  to  offer  "the  party  of  Englishmen"  title  to  a 
piece  of  ground  for  the  factory,  free  water,  and 
exemption  from  local  taxation  for  a  term  of  years 

The  English  party  turned  out  to  be  a  single  person, 
one  Charles  Fairfield,  who  appeared  to  be  greatly  en- 
couraged by  the  evidence  of  hearty  co-operation,  and 
especially  by  the  added  assurance  that  "St.  Charles 
White"  was  readily  obtainable  in  unlimited  quantities. 

When,  later,  I  joined  him  at  his  hotel,  his  pockets 
were  bulging  with  the  great  product  of  my  county,  upon 
the  merits  of  which  he  seemed  quite  disposed  to  enthuse. 

When  advised  by  me  that  the  raw  material  would 
first  have  to  be  hauled  across  the  entire  State  of  Mis- 
souri, and  the  finished  product  transported  back  again 
to  the  larger  market,  his  interest  in  my  scheme  per- 
ceptibly increased,  and  when  I  related  what  had  already 
been  accomplished  at  St.  Charles,  the  victory  over 
Kansas  City  was  complete. 

Fairfield  was  my  companion  on  the  return  journey. 
He  subscribed  for  a  considerable  block  of  the  stock  of 
the  new  St.  Charles  company,  and  at  once  got  busy 
drafting  plans  for  the  factory. 

More  could  not  well  be  done  until  the  financial 
success  of  the  enterprise  had  been  demonstrated.  This 
achieved,  a  glucose  factory  followed,  and  within 
fourteen  months  three  rather  pretentious  industrial 
enterprises  were  in  full  operation,  and  the  loss  of  the 
old  North  Missouri  repair  shops  quite  forgotten. 

Later,  sundry  correspondents  of  the  Kansas  City 
Journal  made  pointed  inquiries  regarding  the  failure  of 

[46] 


the  proposed  starch  factory  for  that  city  to  materialize, 
but  no  one  seemed  able  to  satisfy  public  curiosity. 

It  now  was  desired  that  the  advantages  of  St. 
Charles  as  a  manufacturing  center  should  be  more 
widely  known,  and  in  the  line  of  publicity  I  got  up  a 
special  edition  of  the  Cosmos,  detailing  its  advantages, 
for  general  distribution  throughout  the  country.  To 
this  issue  the  local  Board  of  Trade  subscribed  for 
several  thousand  copies  for  distribution  at  the  Inter- 
national Exposition  of  that  year  at  Vienna,  Austria. 


[47] 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SINGLE-HANDED  ENGAGEMENT  WITH  AN  INFURIATED 
MOB  TO  SAVE  A  MISERABLE  LIFE 

While  engaged  in  the  work  of  publicity  and  develop- 
ment a  most  deplorable  incident  occurred,  and  one  that 
briefly  threatened  to  balk  my  efforts  to  induce  all 
classes  of  people  to  locate. 

A  strapping  negro  tramp  had  been  arrested  for 
attempting  a  nameless  outrage  upon  the  wife  of  a 
German  farmer.  Feeling  against  the  brute  ran  high, 
and  while  his  preliminary  examination  before  a  Justice 
of  the  Peace  was  in  progress,  a  mob,  embracing  several 
hundred  Germans,  their  frenzy  enhanced  by  liberal 
potations  of  beer,  indulged  the  morning  hours,  gathered 
in  front  of  the  court  room  and  waited  with  obvious 
impatience  for  the  termination  of  the  hearing. 

On  my  homeward  way,  at  the  noon  hour,  I  noticed 
the  demonstration,  and  before  reaching  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  I  observed  a  man  with  a  rope,  the 
noose  adjusted,  standing  before  the  door  of  the  Justice's 
office. 

The  intention  of  the  mob  was  all  too  obvious,  and 
I  felt  that  I  must  do  everything  in  my  power  to  thwart 
its  purpose.  Had  the  accused  been  acquitted,  I  perhaps 
might  have  regarded  the  matter  with  a  shade  of  ac- 
quiescence; but  the  Justice  had  held  him  to  answer  to 
the  grand  jury,  and  officers  were  emerging  from  his 
office  with  the  prisoner. 

I  felt  that  the  hanging  of  a  man  in  broad  daylight, 
in  the  principal  street  of  the  city,  would  be  a  lasting 

[48] 


EARLY   RAILROADING 
First    Locomotive   Used   West   of  the    ^lississippi   River 

NORTH-MISSOURI    RAILROAD    BRIDGE 
Spanning  the   Missouri   River  at   St.   Charles 

ST.   CHARLES   CAR   WORKS 
Conceived   t.nd   Founded   by   the   Author 

COUNTY    COURT    HOUSE    AND    CONCERT    HALL,    ST.    CHARLES,    MO. 
THE   CYCLONE    OF   1873 


disgrace  to  St.  Charles,  and  that  such  an  episode,  given 
wide  publicity,  would  prove  an  immediate  and  continuing 
damper  to  my  hopes  of  adding  to  the  industrial 
population.  The  criminality  and  shocking  immorality  of 
the  thing  aside,  there  was  enough  in  the  former  con- 
sideration to  heighten  my  indignation  and  nerve  me  to 
an  effort  at  least  to  save  the  good  name  and  fame  of  the 
town  as  a  law-abiding  community. 

I  did  not  for  a  moment  realize  that  I  had  a  monopoly 
of  this  line  of  reasoning.  Hastily  crossing  the  street, 
just  as  the  fated  victim  was  being  pushed  out  of  the 
door,  and  men  were  placing  the  rope  about  his  neck,  I 
appealed  successively  to  the  Sheriff  and  to  the  Chief  of 
Police,  passive  witnesses  of  what  was  transpiring,  to 
help  me  save  the  town  from  impending  disgrace.  Neither 
responded. 

Then,  quickly  opening  a  large  pocket  knife,  for  no 
time  was  to  be  lost,  I  jumped  into  the  midst  of  the  mob 
and  cut  the  rope;  while  the  noose  was  again  being  ar- 
ranged, the  officers  succeeded  in  pulling  the  terribly 
frightened  negro  across  the  pavement  and  into  the  street, 
and  when  again  it  was  placed  about  his  neck,  I  forced 
myself  to  his  side  and  again  cut  the  rope. 

The  jail  was  but  a  short  distance,  else  I  certainly 
would  have  been  defeated,  and  the  officers  finally  were 
enabled  to  approach  a  little  nearer  to  it  with  the  prisoner 
each  time  I  cut  the  rope.  I  think  I  repeated  the  opera- 
tion four  times  before  the  prisoner  was  landed  behind 
the  bars. 

Needless  to  say,  I  was  not  handled  very  gently  by 
that  mob,  and  with  my  clothing  torn  to  shreds,  and  with 
blood  flowing  from  numerous  superficial  injuries 
received  in  the  melee,  I  turned  in  an  opposite  direction 
for  my  own  home,  also  but  a  block  from  the  jail.  Upon 
opening  the  door  of  my  home,  I  fell  in  a  dead  faint 

[49] 


across  the  threshold,  to  the  intense  alarm  and  consterna- 
tion of  all  within. 

When  consciousness  returned,  I  discovered  that  the 
mob,  their  frenzy  intensified  by  a  realization  of  defeat, 
had  quitted  the  precincts  of  the  jail,  and  were  gathered 
in  groups  on  all  sides  of  my  home.  Hatred  of  the  negro 
had  been  transferred  to  me,  but  the  mob  was  too 
cowardly  to  make  an  attack,  and  too  excited  to  withdraw 
and  give  up  their  hellish  design. 

Some  time  during  the  night,  however,  the  crowd 
dispersed,  leaving  me  to  wakeful  and  troubled  dreams, 
in  which  always  the  horrible  face  of  a  negro,  livid  with 
fear,  his  eyes  protruding,  his  tongue  hanging  on  his 
chin,  was  the  central  and  dominating  feature. 

The  St.  Louis  papers  printed  elaborate  reports  of  the 
near  tragedy,  according  to  me  more  than  my  meed  of 
praise  for  physical  courage  displayed. 


[50] 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DEATH  AND  DESTRUCTION  COME  OUT  OF  THE  HEAVENS 
ON  A  PEACEFUL  SUNDAY 

Before  the  close  of  my  second  year  in  St.  Charles  the 
old  town  began  to  put  on  modern  garments,  and  to 
prepare  for  the  place  it  was  earning  as  an  industrial 
center.  My  political  status,  always  agreeable  to  the 
German  element,  no  longer  seemed  to  concern  the 
English-speaking  population';  but,  whereas  the  Germans 
were  at  times  fulsome  in  their  praise,  they  reserved 
patronage  for  their  own  papers. 

However,  I  had  little  cause  for  complaint,  since 
what  was  done  or  left  undone  was  consistent  with 
natural  laws  and  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  I  secured 
sufficient  patronage  to  keep  my  newspaper  enterprise  in 
the  current,  to  enlarge  and  improve  the  plant,  and 
eventually  to  remove  the  incubus  of  debt  hanging  over  it. 

After  a  somewhat  strenuous  campaign,  I  was  able 
to  show  a  larger  circulation  than  either  my  English  or 
German  competitors,  and  thus  secure  the  public  printing 
contract;  albeit,  all  classes  seemed  to  rejoice  in  this 
triumph,  for  the  reason  that  the  opposition  press  had 
pursued  a  dog-in-the-manger  policy  toward  industrial 
advancement,  ridiculing  my  efforts  to  establish  car 
works,  starch  and  glucose  factories,  and  in  all  ways 
consorting  to  defeat  my  purposes. 

There  had  been  quite  an  addition  to  the  population, 
later  arrivals  becoming  my  most  dependable  allies.  New 
houses  sprang  up,  business  blocks  were  erected,  and  the 
city  was  just  fairly  launched  upon  a  new  era  of  pros- 
re  i] 


perity,  when  another  awful  calamity  was  visited  upon  it, 
and  with  scarcely  a  monent's  notice. 

The  Cosmos  office  occupied  the  second  story  of  the 
Mittelberger  Operahouse,  overlooking  the  Missouri 
River,  a  few  hundred  feet  distant. 

While  sitting  at  my  desk,  one  quiet  Sunday  after- 
noon, I  observed  a  sudden  change  in  the  atmosphere,  the 
blue-white  air  of  the  sunny  day  turning  to  a  bright 
copper  color  in  the  space  of  a  few  moments,  the  dark- 
ness of  night  following.  The  change  both  oppressed  and 
startled  me.  For  a  time  breathing  became  difficult. 
Looking  out  upon  the  river,  I  saw  approaching  the 
hideous  shape  and  terrible  visage  of  a  cyclone  cloud, 
formed  like  a  cornucopia,  and  charged,  as  my  instinct 
told  me,  with  death  and  destruction.  It  seemed  to  emit 
a  sulphurous  odor,  and  as  it  approached  the  air  became 
almost  stifling.  It  appeared  to  be  following  the  course 
of  the  river,  and  I  calculated  that  unless  its  bulk  should 
expand  or  its  course  change,  the  city  might  escape  its 
ravages.  Although  it  appeared  to  move  slowly,  re- 
volving as  it  approached,  really  not  more  than  a  minute 
passed  before  it  swept  over  the  city  like  an  avenging 
Nemesis,  visiting  ruin  on  all  sides. 

Rising  hastily  from  my  desk,  I  noticed  the  partitions 
of  the  building  swaying  like  leaves  in  an  autumnal 
storm;  the  lights  I  had  turned  on  when  darkness  first 
appeared  went  out,  and,  with  a  crash  as  of  thunder,  the 
roof  of  the  Operahouse  was  whipped  off  bodily  and 
stood  upright  in  front  of  the  building,  smashing  all  of 
the  windows,  and  leaving  the  interior  in  utter  darkness. 

Terrorized  by  the  frightful  noise  created  by  falling 
walls,  I  made  my  way  through  the  building  to  the  rear 
as  best  I  could,  since  egress  from  the  front  was  entirely 
shut  off,  and  gained  an  eminence  overlooking  the  whole 
city. 

[62] 


My  first  impression  was  that  everything  had  been 
destroyed,  since  such  buildings  as  had  not  wholly  col- 
lapsed were  covered  with  the  debris  of  the  less  fortunate, 
and  the  main  street  for  a  distance  of  two  miles  was  so 
filled  with  brick  and  mortar  and  twisted  timber  that 
passage  through  it,  save  afoot,  was  for  days  impossible. 

Almost  my  first  thought  was  as  to  the  fate  of  a 
funeral  procession  that  I  had  observed  passing  the  office 
only  a  few  moments  before  the  storm  broke.  Fortunate- 
ly, as  later  appeared,  the  long  line  had  emerged  from  the 
path  of  the  cyclone  and  escaped  over  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
Delayed  ten  minutes  in  its  progress  through  the  main 
street,  it  is  not  likely  there  would  have  been  a  single 
survivor. 

For  the  information  of  readers  who  never  saw  a 
cyclone,  or  studied  the  peculiarities  of  one,  I  may  state 
that  it  is  usually  a  funnel-shaped  cloud  depending  from 
the  sky,  narrowing  as  it  approaches  the  earth.  In  that 
shape  it  passes  over  a  well-defined  but  usually  narrow 
strip  of  territory,  moving  with  almost  lightning  rapidity, 
bounding  up  and  down  like  a  ball,  or,  perhaps,  more  like 
a  spiral  spring,  expanding  and  contracting,  with  its 
progress. 

This  peculiar  jumping  or  bounding  motion  produces 
most  astounding  results.  I  encountered  localities  in  its 
wake  where  the  fences  on  either  side  of  a  house  would 
be  completely  removed  while  the  building  would  be  left 
uninjured.  At  one  point,  where,  before  the  storm,  stood 
a  solid  square  of  buildings  facing  four  streets,  upon  the 
site  of  all  which  not  a  nail  could  be  found. 

Arriving  at  my  home,  I  found  it  the  only  structure 
in  the  entire  block  not  wholly  or  partially  ruined.  And 
here  a  singular  phenomenon  occurred.  My  mother  was 
lying  in  a  second-story  room.  Bricks  from  the  chimney 
of  the  adjoining  house  were  carried  through  a  side 


[53] 


window  and  over  the  bed,  without  injuring  the  occupant, 
but  smashing  a  mirror  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

A  huge  timber,  12x12  and  60  feet  in  length,  was 
carried  a  distance  of  several  blocks  and  projected 
literally  through  both  walls  of  the  County  Courthouse. 

A  baby  was  picked  up,  carried  over  the  river,  and 
safely  deposited  in  the  town  of  Brotherton,  not  a  hair 
injured. 

The  massive  metal  roof  of  the  county  jail  was 
whipped  off,  as  if  but  a  shingle,  and  carried  through  the 
air  a  distance  of  three  miles,  passing  over  a  bridge 
spanning  the  river,  like  a  huge  aeroplane. 

The  effect  upon  the  jail  constituted  perhaps  the  most 
singular  and  startling  phenomenon.  A  vacuum  ap- 
parently had  been  created,  causing  the  four  walls  above 
the  first  story  to  fall  outward,  leaving  the  iron  cages 
intact. 

Through  the  bars  could  be  seen  numerous  prisoners 
moving  about,  as  untamed  animals  pace  their  cages, 
blood  streaming  from  the  faces  of  many,  and  all 
screaming  and  shouting  for  succor  like  so  many  howling 
dervishes.  The  cages  had  been  so  severely  wrenched 
that  the  locks  would  not  work,  and  it  became  necessary 
to  saw  the  bars  to  liberate  them. 

The  cyclone  passed  diagonally  through  the  country, 
spending  itself  in  the  Mississippi  just  above  St.  Louis, 
but  leaving  death  and  destruction  in  its  wake. 

The  worst  over,  I  set  about  the  task  of  partially 
clearing  the  debris  from  my  printing  plant  and  preparing 
to  issue  "extras." 

The  gas  plant  had  been  destroyed,  and  under  the  dim 
light  of  hastily  improvised  kerosene  lamps  my  printers 
and  pressmen  worked  the  night  through. 

I  fancy  extras  of  a  newspaper  were  never  issued 
under  so  many  disadvantages.  I  wrote  the  story  of  the 

[64] 


storm  in  the  open,  as  I  passed  from  street  to  street,  my 
faithful  "printer's  devil"  following  my  footsteps  and 
conveying  copy  from  wherever  I  might  be  to  the  printing 
office. 

There  was  no  sleep  in  St.  Charles  that  night,  and  the 
bonfires  kept  burning  here  and  there  made  it  possible  for 
me  to  write  out  of  doors  and  keep  from  freezing,  since 
an  unusually  low  temperature  followed  the  cyclone. 


[55] 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FEARSOME  MIDNIGHT  CONFERENCE  WITH  CONDEMNED 
MURDERER  IN  His  CELL 

During  the  summer  of  1873  one  Charles  Foster  was 
lodged  in  the  St.  Charles  jail  and  booked  on  a  charge  of 
murder.  At  his  trial  it  was  shown  that,  while  tramping 
through  the  county  from  Alton,  111.,  he  encountered  a 
negro  carrying  a  rifle,  which  he  coveted. 

Approaching  an  apple  orchard,  Foster  induced  his 
companion  to  enter  and  secure  some  of  the  fruit,  offer- 
ing to  hold  the  weapon  and  stand  guard  in  his  absence. 
The  unfortunate  victim  of  his  avarice  had  scarcely 
cleared  the  fence  when  Foster  sent  a  rifle  ball  through 
his  body,  killing  him  instantly. 

The  deed  was  not  without  a  witness,  and  the  mur- 
derer was  soon  apprehended.  He  was  convicted,  but 
secured  a  second  trial,  and  altogether  spent  more  than 
a  year  in  the  local  bastile. 

Having  to  pass  the  prison  several  times  a  day  on  my 
way  to  and  from  the  office,  it  was  convenient  for  me  to 
drop  in  occasionally  and  carry  to  the  fellow  some  dainty 
from  my  own  table,  as  well  as  a  supply  of  tobacco.  I 
had  entertained  no  sentiment  for  him  other  than  loath- 
ing, but  I  had  heard  some  of  the  testimony  at  the 
preliminary  investigation,  and  scented  a  good  story  in 
the  man  before  he  should  be  executed. 

Convicted  a  second  time,  he  was  sentenced  to  be 
hanged  at  Warrenton,  a  neighboring  town,  in  the  im- 
mediate future. 

There  had  been  rumors  that  the  train  bearing  him 

[56] 


hence  might  be  held  up  and  the  prisoner  released,  and, 
out  of  abundance  of  precaution,  the  authorities  had  de- 
cided to  take  him  away  on  a  freight  train  passing  St. 
Charles  in  the  night,  the  date  of  departure  closely 
guarded. 

Foster,  grateful  for  the  courtesies  extended  him,  had 
promised  me  a  story,  and  I  had  arranged  with  the  jailer 
to  send  for  me  the  moment  he  should  receive  notice  of 
the  hour  the  culprit  was  to  be  taken  from  his  custody. 

The  summons  came  at  midnight.  Foster  was  to  leave 
at  4  A.M.  A  few  moments  later  I  was  alone  in  the  cell 
with  the  doomed  man,  the  turnkey  asleep  in  the  corridor, 
a  fact  borne  to  me  by  his  uninterrupted  and  heavy 
breathing. 

Foster,  attired  only  in  flannel  underwear,  sat  upon 
the  edge  of  an  iron  bed  facing  me,  sitting  on  a  low  stool. 
He  was  a  man  of  great  muscular  strength.  The  face 
turned  toward  me  for  two  mortal  hours  was  that  of  a 
murderer,  with  every  bestial  instinct  marked,  and  as 
the  recital  of  his  life's  brutal  history  was  unfolded,  and 
the  closing  scene  set  for  the  morrow  was  borne  in  upon 
him,  his  facial  aspect  sent  thrills  of  horror  through  me 
and  awakened  a  fearful  apprehension,  before  the  inter- 
view ended. 

The  story  he  told,  with  a  facility  that  marked  it  as 
substantially  true,  was  full  of  human  interest,  and  even 
after  a  realization  came  to  me  of  my  peril  I  hung  on  to 
his  words,  hoping  for  more. 

He  confessed  to  me,  as  he  had  not  to  another  living 
soul,  that  he  had  long  been  a  member  of  the  James  gang 
of  outlaws,  and  then  followed  with  many  details  the 
story  of  a  score  of  bank  robberies,  a  dozen  train  hold- 
ups, and  murders  almost  beyond  belief. 

In  the  haste  of  my  departure  from  home  I  had  pro- 
vided myself  with  but  a  single  pencil,  and,  in  taking 

[57] 


down  so  lengthy  a  narrative,  it  naturally  needed  fre- 
quent sharpening,  albeit  in  my  excitement  I  broke  the 
point  oftener  than  ordinarily  would  occur.  In  the  atti- 
tude described,  with  an  open  knife  in  my  hand,  and  the 
turnkey  out  of  sight  and  sound  asleep,  consciousness  of 
my  peril  came  with  a  shock  that  well  nigh  unbalanced 
me. 

With  the  knowledge  that  he  was  to  face  the  gibbet 
before  the  sun  again  should  rise  and  set,  it  was  not 
unreasonable  to  suppose  that  he  might  hazard  anything 
to  free  himself  from  his  fetters.  He  had  but  to  throw 
his  ponderous  weight  upon  me  to  crush  me,  seize  the 
knife,  with  it  attack  the  guard,  and  from  him  recover 
the  key  that  would  set  him  free. 

A  full  half  dozen  ways  of  escape,  all  of  the  simplest 
nature,  occurred  to  me,  as  I  alternately  wrote  and 
sharpened  the  pencil,  and  the  difficulty  of  my  position 
was  accentuated  by  the  added  fear  lest  I  might  betray 
the  terrible  thoughts  that  were  surging  through  my 
brain,  and  give  him  hint  of  his  power. 

That  it  did  not  occur  to  him  as  it  had  to  me  has  ever 
been  a  profound  mystery.  The  only  theory  upon  which 
I  have  been  able  to  reconcile  it  with  the  possession  of  the 
commonest  degree  of  human  instinct  is  that  the  man 
was  absolutely  and  wholly  absorbed  in  the  recital  of  his 
life's  history,  in  which  he  displayed  singular  pride — that 
his  thoughts  were  concentrated  upon  the  events  of 
yesterday,  wholly  shutting  out  the  frightful  vision  of 
the  morrow.  It  is  certain  that  thought  of  escape  never 
entered  his  mind. 

Half  an  hour  before  train  time  the  Sheriff  arrived, 
bringing  to  sudden  and  welcome  close  the  most  terrify- 
ing ordeal  ever  endured  before  or  since. 

I  knew  the  St.  Louis  papers  would  all  be  represented 
at  Warrenton  on  the  morrow,  and  I  pledged  Foster  that 

[68] 


the  story  he  had  given  me  should  be  exclusive,  regard- 
less of  pressure  brought  to  bear,  a  pledge  he  kept  with 
strictest  fidelity.  I  was  the  last  person  to  bid  him 
good-bye  on  the  scaffold,  just  before  the  black  cap  was 
adjusted,  and  his  last  words  were  an  expression  of 
gratitude  for  the  kindness  of  my  treatment. 

I  returned  to  St.  Charles  and  printed  a  story  that 
was  appreciated  for  its  news  value,  being  put  on  the 
Associated  Press  wire  and  sent  to  the  four  corners  of 
the  earth.  By  my  metropolitan  contemporaries  it  was 
accounted  a  clever  bit  of  newspaper  work,  although  none 
knew  at  what  cost  to  my  sensory  nerves. 


t«9] 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  GREAT  REVENUE  CONSPIRACY  OF  V3 — MY 
CONNECTION  WITH  ITS  PRINCIPALS 

Files  of  the  St.  Louis  papers  alone  contain  the  story 
of  the  greatest  conspiracy  ever  organized  in  this  country 
to  defraud  the  revenue.  The  present  generation  know 
little  about  it.  And  yet  the  discovery  of  the  plot,  after 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  had  been  filched  from 
the  national  treasury,  the  apprehension  of  the  ring 
leaders  of  the  conspiracy,  their  subsequent  trial  and  con- 
viction, constituted  perhaps  the  most  sensational  oc- 
currences of  the  early  '70's,  and  held  the  closest  atten- 
tion of  the  people  of  the  nation  for  the  greatest  part  of 
two  years. 

Discovery  was  accidental,  and  came  about  by  a 
comparison  of  whiskey  known  to  have  been  produced 
within  certain  districts,  and  the  gross  revenue  derived 
from  the  same,  showing  an  enormous  discrepancy. 

Supervisors,  gaugers  and  storekeepers  in  the  revenue 
service,  from  Louisville,  Nashville  and  Memphis,  in  the 
south,  to  St.  Louis  and  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  in  the  north, 
were  involved,  as  were  owners  of  influential  newspa- 
pers, notably  Mr.  Wm.  McKee,  founder  of  the  St.  Louis 
Globe  Democrat,  and  the  proprietor  of  a  journal  at  St. 
Joseph,  a  person  named  Bittinger. 

A  circumstance  that  accentuated  the  thoroughness 
of  the  organization,  and  the  safeguards  with  which  it 
was  buttressed,  was  the  proved  direct  connection  with 
the  ring  of  General  Babcock,  private  secretary  of  Gen- 
eral Grant,  then  President  of  the  United  States. 

The  chief  spirits  in  the  combination,  the  men  who 

[60] 


discovered  the  plan  to  systematically  rob  the  government, 
and  who  organized  the  plunderers  into  one  more  or  less 
cohesive  band  of  robbers,  were  Supervisor  John  Mc- 
Donald and  Gauger  John  A.  Joyce,  both  of  the  St.  Louis 
revenue  district.  The  latter  supplied  the  brains  for  the 
combination.  All  of  those  named,  and  numerous  others, 
including  Secretary  Babcock,  were  indicted. 

At  that  time,  political  feeling  running  high,  it  was 
not  difficult  to  place  one's  hands  upon  men,  some  high 
in  public  life,  who  professed  to  believe  that  even  the 
President  had  guilty  knowledge  of  what  was  transpiring. 
No  such  absurd  thought  is  entertained  at  this  time  by 
any  one,  but  reference  to  the  popular  trend  of  the  time 
seems  essential  to  the  consistency  of  my  story,  a  true  one, 
and  here  for  the  first  time  given  publicity. 

So  complete  were  all  the  links  in  the  slimy  chain, 
extending  from  the  White  House  to  the  banks  of  the 
lower  Ohio  and  upper  Missouri,  that  every  act  of  the 
treasury  officials  at  Washington,  almost  their  very 
thoughts  and  most  secret  intentions,  were  instantly  com- 
municated to  the  conspirators,  enabling  them  to  "clean 
house"  and  fortify  against  detection  and  exposure,  thus 
prolonging  the  existence  of  the  ring,  and  enabling  its 
members  to  continue  their  plundering  of  the  revenue, 
even  after  the  existence  of  an  extensive  leak  somewhere 
was  known  to  the  treasury  officials. 

The  most  trusted  men  in  the  secret  service  were 
periodically  sent  into  the  several  districts,  but  they  would 
scarcely  start  on  their  mission  before  the  fact  would  be 
wired  to  all  of  the  interested  parties.  The  value  to  the 
ringsters  of  the  services  of  the  President's  Private  Sec- 
retary was  thus  doubly  accentuated,  and,  in  a  way,  ac- 
counted for  the  belief,  quite  popular  at  the  time,  that  the 
conspirators  were  being  shielded  even  by  the  Chief  Exec- 
utive himself. 

[611 


The  facts  here  recited  added  greatly  to  the  perplex- 
ities of  the  government's  chief  prosecutor,  United  States 
District  Attorney  D.  Pat  Dyer,  at  this  writing,  U.  S. 
District  Judge  at  St.  Louis.  And  it  was  here  that  my 
humble  connection  with  the  matter  came  in.  Dyer's  chief 
assistant,  the  man  who  drew  up  all  of  the  pleadings  in 
the  important  cases,  was  Col.  Ben  Emmons,  of  St. 
Charles,  a  neighbor  and  confidential  friend  and  at  the 
time  a  partner-£>f  Col.  Dyer,  long  since  passed  to  his 
reward. 

Up  to  a  certain  juncture  in  the  proceedings  before 
the  federal  court,  Col.  Emmons  was  accustomed  to  re- 
turn home  for  the  night.  Through  him  I  thus  was  kept 
advised  of  every  step  of  the  prosecution,  and  soon  I  was 
in  possession  of  secrets  which  the  tortures  of  the  Inqui- 
sition could  not  have  wrested  from  me,  but  which  the 
St.  Louis  papers  would  have  paid  handsomely  for. 

But  the  Nestor  of  St.  Louis  journalism,  Wm.  McKee, 
was  under  indictment,  and  Col.  Dyer,  reasoning  from 
analogy,  was  in  such  doubt  as  to  the  proven  ramifications 
of  the  conspiracy,  that  he  dared  not  trust  any  of  the  St. 
Louis  newspapers. 

There  were  periods,  during  the  protracted  hearings, 
when  he  desired  certain  intelligence  to  go  to  the  country 
through  the  medium  of  the  press,  and  it  was  here  that  I 
became  a  more  or  less  useful  medium  of  communication 
for  the  chief  government  prosecutor.  At  such  times  I 
went  to  St.  Louis  and  interviewed  Col.  Dyer,  and  the 
outside  press,  without  apparently  divining  the  source 
of  my  extraordinary  pull,  was  content  to  take  the  infor- 
mation second-hand  from  the  columns  of  my  little  coun- 
try paper. 

But,  as  the  hearing  progressed,  Col.  Emmons  ceased 
his  nightly  visits  home,  and  I  discovered,  by  means  of  a 
little  probing,  the  reason  for  it.  His  office  had  been  ad- 

[62] 


vised  of  the  dispatch  from  Washington  of  secret  service 
men,  commissioned  to  break  into  the  vaults  in  Col. 
Dyer's  office,  and  steal  the  documentary  evidence  against 
Col.  Babcock  stored  there.  For  a  considerable  period  of 
time,  and  until  all  danger  had  passed,  Col.  Emmons  slept 
on  a  couch,  in  front  of  the  vaults,  with  two  revolvers 
under  his  pillow. 

Such  was  shown  to  be  the  power  of  Gen'l  Babcock, 
even  after  indictment  by  the  Grand  Jury — almost  un- 
thinkable the  proposition,  yet  true, — that  some  men,  high 
in  authority  at  the  capital,  actually  conspired  to  defeat 
the  government  they  served,  taking  the  extreme  risk 
of  safe-breaking  to  save  a  fellow-conspirator  from  mer- 
ited punishment. 

The  trial  resulted  in  the  conviction  and  punishment 
of  most  of  the  offenders ;  Dawes,  Bittinger,  Feineman, 
Hasselman,  Sheehan,  Borngesser,  Rendelman,  Avery, 
Maguire,  Ernest,  and  others  whose  names  are  not  re- 
called. Mr.  McKee  died  in  the  St.  Louis  jail,  while 
awaiting  trial. 

Babcock  escaped  on  technicalities,  but  subsequently 
went  down  to  a  dishonored  grave. 

McDonald,  who,  just  before  exposure,  gave  to  Pres- 
ident Grant  a  ten  thousand  dollar  span  of  horses,  was 
lost  sight  of  behind  the  walls  of  a  federal  prison. 

The  one  bright  particular  star,  who  rose  superior  to 
all  his  accumulated  difficulties,  was  sent  to  the  State 
prison  at  Jefferson  City,  but  emerged  from  its  grim  walls 
two  years  later  with  flying  colors.  Going  to  the  Su- 
preme Court  upon  a  brief  prepared  by  himself,  Col. 
Joyce  was  liberated  upon  the  ground  that  a  "cumulative 
sentence/'  such  as  imposed  upon  him,  was  unconstitu- 
tional. 

The  previous  and  subsequent  career  of  Joyce  entitle 
him,  as  well  as  the  reader,  to  an  added  paragraph.  At 

[63] 


twenty-two  he  was  an  inmate  of  the  Kentucky  insane 
asylum,  "gone  daft"  on  perpetual  motion.  His  cure  was 
slow  but  absolute,  and  upon  regaining  his  liberty  he 
wrote  a  book  upon  the  treatment  of  the  insane  in  asy- 
lums. It  attracted  the  attention  of  that  small  but  earnest 
and  worthy  class  given  to  the  study  and  correction  of 
social  and  humanitarian  problems,  to  whom  doubtless  it 
proved  illuminating. 

The  position  to  which  President  Grant  had  assigned 
Joyce  at  St.  Louis  was  neither  profitable  nor  influential 
in  itself,  but  he  possessed  a  high  order  of  intellect,  was 
versatile  in  his  accomplishments,  with  a  most  ingratiat- 
ing address,  his  expressions  scintillating  with  wit  and 
humor,  an  all  around  racconteur,  and,  above  all,  a  born 
diplomat.  He  was  one  of  the  most  interesting,  enter- 
taining and  lovable  characters  I  ever  have  met.  His 
equipment  for  plotting  and  scheming,  for  finesse  and  di- 
plomacy, was  complete,  and,  by  the  adroit  use  of  all  these 
instrumentalities,  he  soon  became  a  factor  in  Missouri 
politics  to  be  reckoned  with  by  all  who  sought  govern- 
mental recognition  at  home  or  at  Washington.  His 
power  was  so  comprehensive  that  it  was  said  one  could 
not  hope  for  appointment  to  even  a  fourth-class  post- 
mastership  without  his  endorsement.  There  was  scarcely 
discernible  in  his  make-up  a  single  weakness,  and  all 
through  his  trial  he  bore  himself  with  such  a  degree  of 
manly  courage  and  fortitude  as  to  force  admiration,  even 
at  the  hands  of  the  government  prosecutors. 

When,  after  conviction,  Judge  Krekel  asked  if  he 
had  anything  to  say  why  sentence  should  not  be  pro- 
nounced, he  arose  in  his  place  in  the  dock  and  delivered 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  appeals  ever  heard  in  a 
court-room,  a  speech  that  filled  every  auditor  with  its 
eloquence  and  pathos.  I  offer  no  apologies  for  reproduc- 
ing, and  thus  perpetuating,  a  portion  of  it  here.  Sub- 

[64] 


Early   Home   of   Daniel    Boone,    Near   St.    Charles,    Mo. 
"Judgment  Tree."   Under  Which   Boone    Held   "Court1 
House    Near    St.    Charles,    in    Which    Boone    Died 


sequently  it  found  its  way  into  the  publications  of  nearly 
every  civilized  country  in  the  world,  being  everywhere 
recognized  as  a  distinct  literary  classic.  Col.  Joyce  said : 

Before  this  honorable  court  passes  sentence,  I  beg 
leave  to  state  my  conviction  was  secured  by  the  per- 
jured testimony  of  self-convicted  thieves.  Feineman, 
the  rectifier;  Borngesser,  the  gauger;  and  Rendleman, 
the  storekeeper — all  lineal  descendants  of  those  ancient 
scoundrels  who  crucified  Christ — came  upon  the  witness 
stand  and  paraded  their  own  infamy  by  acknowledging 
that  they  had  stolen  whiskey  from  the  government 
through  a  term  of  years,  at  the  rate  of  from  one  dollar 
to  fifty  cents  a  barrel.  The  pencil  of  Gustave  Dore 
could  not  do  justice  to  those  three  wandering  Israelites, 
who  seemed  ever  to  be  on  the  lookout  to  steal  small 
things  when  big  ones  were  conveniently  at  hand.  Feine- 
man and  Fagin  are  identical  characters,  and  should  be 
immortalized  in  living  infamy.  I  dismiss  these  pillars 
of  fraud  and  perjury,  consigning  them  to  the  devouring 
fury  of  a  rotten  conscience. 

I  was  indicted  for  failure  to  report  in  writing  cer- 
tain alleged  knowledge  and  information  of  certain  fraud- 
ulent transactions  of  petrified  perjurers.  The  jury  found 
me  guilty  on  the  counts,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  con- 
clusion was  as  false  as  the  evidence.  I  agree  that  it  had 
the  appearance  to  the  jury  of  failure  of  duty.  We  know, 
however,  that  things  are  not  always  what  they  seem.  I 
simply  declare  upon  my  honor  as  a  man,  and  my  alle- 
giance as  an  American  citizen,  here  in  the  presence  of 
this  honorable  court,  to  the  whole  world,  and  facing  my 
God,  that  I  am  absolutely  innocent  of  the  charges 
trumped  up  against  me  by  pretended  friends  and  viper 
enemies. 

It  has  not  been  shown  in  evidence,  or  even  intimated 
by  anybody,  that  I  ever  received  a  single  cent  in  fraud  of 
the  revenue.  Then,  where  is  the  motive  that  induced  me 
to  withhold  the  information?  I  did  make  a  report  in 
writing  to  the  Supervisor  and  to  Commissioner  Doug- 
lass. The  report,  it  is  alleged,  was  not  full.  Neither  was 

[65] 


the  information  in  my  possession  full  or  complete,  as  the 
facts  were  in  Colorado,  out  of  my  district,  and  the  theory 
I  reported  was  in  Missouri. 

The  District  Attorney  of  the  United  States,  in  his 
concluding  speech,  introduced  my  copy-book,  showing 
the  transmittal  letter  to  the  Supervisor  as  something 
fraudulent.  My  lawyers  or  myself  had  not  opportunity 
to  explain  the  letter  in  evidence,  which  could  have  been 
done  to  the  utmost  satisfaction  of  everybody  concerned. 

Your  honor,  from  the  beginning  of  the  case  to  the 
end,  extended  consideration  and  ordinary  rulings.  For 
this  I  thank  you,  in  the  name  of  the  people  and  in  the 
name  of  justice.  I  stand  here  today  strong  and  bold  in 
conscious  innocence.  My  heart  is  actuated  by  that  noble 
impulse  that  nerved  Winkelried,  when  he  opened  a 
breach  for  the  liberty  of  his  country;  or  by  that  lofty 
courage  that  inspired  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  at  the  block. 
Like  Raleigh,  I  may  have  puffed  smoke  through  the  win- 
dow at  the  execution  of  some  official  Essex ;  but  I  never 
trampled  on  the  royal  robes  of  the  virgin  queen!  For 
myself,  I  have  no  fear  of  any  punishment  on  earth ;  yet, 
in  behalf  of  my  past  good  character,  this  being  the  first 
suspicion  of  guilt  that  has  ever  darkened  my  life,  and  in 
consideration  of  the  support  I  owe  my  wife  and  children, 
I  ask  that  magnanimity  at  this  bar  of  justice  that  would 
be  reasonably  claimed  by  yourself  under  like  circum- 
stances. 

A  few  short  years  will  sepulchre  the  living  of  today 
with  the  dead  of  yesterday,  and  the  celestial  sunlight 
of  tomorrow  will  bring  us  all  to  the  bar  of  omnipotence, 
where  the  judge,  jury,  lawyer  and  client  will  meet  upon 
the  level  of  eternity  and  part  upon  the  square  of  final 
judgment.  Then  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  bare,  and  Truth 
will  rise  in  magnificent  triumph.  The  blood  of  innocence 
flows  free  and  unruffled  through  the  channels  of  this 
frame,  and  the  artificial  terrors  that  surround  the  vic- 
tims of  crime  find  no  lodgment  in  my  heart.  When  I 
look  back  to  the  field  of  battle,  where  I  fought  and  bled 
for  my  country  in  its  hour  of  terrible  trial,  I  wonder 
whether  patriotism  is  but  a  name,  and  gratitude  of  na- 

[66] 


tions  a  mockery  and  sham,  to  lure  the  brave  to  destruc- 
tion. 

My  simple  sin  is  that  of  omission,  and  for  it  I  suffer 
the  deepest  humiliation,  while  all  the  glorious  services 
and  recollections  of  the  past  are  buried  in  the  grave  of 
forgetfulness.  Is  this  right?  Is  this  just? 

This  epidemical  era  of  reform  has  arisen  like  the 
rush  of  a  mighty  flood,  and  speeds  on  to  the  gulf  of 
punishment.  The  good  and  the  bad  suffer  alike.  The 
stream  is  full  of  driftwood  and  dead  timber,  while  many 
young  oaks  and  tall  sycamores  on  the  banks  are  loosened 
from  their  firm  foundation  and  dashed  into  the  river 
of  destruction.  But  the  rain  falls  lightly  on  the  moun- 
tains, the  sun  shines  warmly  on  the  plains,  and  the  flood, 
even  now,  is  settling  into  its  former  bed,  where  the  crys- 
tal waters  shall  again  reflect  the  green  foliage  of  the 
oak  and  sycamore,  and  the  gentle  breeze  and  the  birds  of 
spring  shall  make  merry  music  in  the  cathedral  aisles 
of  generous  nature ! 

The  prison  walls  that  hemmed  in  Galileo,  Columbus, 
Tasso  and  Napoleon,  did  not  measure  the  minds  of  the 
men.  It  is  true  their  bodies  suffered  some  torture,  but 
the  proud  spirit  that  rose  in  their  hearts  leaped  the 
bounds  of  clay,  and  soared  away  into  the  illimitable  re- 
gions of  science,  poetry  and  war,  making  them  monarchs 
of  the  hour  and  masters  of  eternity!  Humble  as  I  am 
in  the  walks  of  life,  my  soul  is  inspired  by  their  illus- 
trious example;  and  it  shall  be  my  future  endeavor  to 
show  the  world  that,  although  I  may  suffer  for  a  time 
the  penalty  of  perjured  testimony,  yet,  like  a  mountain 
crag,  I  shall  breast  the  pelting  storms  and  lift  my  head 
clear  and  bold  to  the  coming  sunshine  of  truth  and  re- 
demption ! 

I  have  done ! 

I  had  met  Col.  Joyce  in  political  conventions,  in  his 
office,  and  elsewhere,  and  an  enduring  friendship  was  the 
result  of  the  contact  between  two  appreciative  and  sym- 
pathetic natures.  Not  even  the  uncompromising  atti- 
tude of  my  paper  regarding  the  conspiracy  served  to 

[67] 


shake  our  faith  in  each  other  or  weaken  the  ties  that 
bound  us.  I  sympathized  deeply  with  him  in  his  down- 
fall and  disgrace,  and  early  took  occasion  to  visit  him 
in  his  prison  home  at  Jefferson  City,  hoping  that  I  might 
give  him  some  comfort,  and  possibly  in  some  degree  in- 
fluence the  Warden  in  the  treatment  of  his  distinguished 
charge.  He  was  given  a  congenial  position  in  the  ac- 
counting department,  and  at  once  became  a  most  re- 
spected "trusty." 

Col.  Joyce's  devoted  wife  rented  a  cottage  under  the 
shadow  of  the  grim  walls  of  the  prison,  and,  perhaps 
oftener  than  a  strict  interpretation  of  the  rules  would 
warrant,  was  permitted  to  see  her  husband.  Soon  after 
his  release  he  published  a  book  on  prison  treatment,  and 
an  autobiography  entitled  "Checkered  Life,"  a  work  of 
absorbing  interest  from  cover  to  cover.  He  wrote  a 
great  deal  of  verse  of  a  high  order  of  merit,  the  most 
enduring  of  which,  "Love  and  Laughter",  I  here  re- 
produce. Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  has  taken  occasion  to 
dispute  with  Joyce  the  authorship  of  this  poem,  but  I 
know,  if  I  may  not  prove,  that  it  was  the  product  of  the 
Colonel's  pen.  It  is  the  philosophy  of  his  life,  and,  be- 
sides that,  John  once  took  me  into  a  saloon  in  St.  Louis, 
and  pointed  out  the  identical  beer  barrel  he  sat  on  while 
writing  it.  That  ought  to  be  conclusive.  Here  is  the 
verse : 

Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  you; 

Weep  and  you  weep  alone; 
For  the  sad  old  earth  must  borrow  its  mirth, 

But  has  trouble  enough  of  its  own. 

Sing,  and  the  hills  will  answer ; 

Sigh,  it  is  lost  on  the  air, 
The  echoes  bound  to  a  joyful  sound, 

But  shrink  from  voicing  care. 

[68] 


Rejoice,  and  men  will  seek  you ; 

Grieve,  and  they  turn  to  go ; 
They  want  full  measure  of  all  your  pleasure, 

But  they  do  not  need  your  woe. 

Be  glad,  and  your  friends  are  many; 

Be  sad  and  you  lose  them  all ; 
There  are  none  to  decline  your  nectared  wine, 

But  alone  you  must  drink  life's  gall. 

Feast,  and  your  halls  are  crowded; 
Fast  and  the  world  goes  by; 
Succeed  and  give,  and  it  helps  you  live, 
But  no  man  can  help  you  die. 

There  is  room  in  the  halls  of  pleasure 

For  a  large  and  lordly  train, 
But  one  by  one  we  must  all  file  on 

Through  the  narrow  aisles  of  pain. 

From  Jefferson  City,  Col.  Joyce  returned  to  the 
national  capital,  happily  living  with  his  family  in  his 
wife's  beautiful  home  on  Georgetown  Heights,  and  de- 
voting himself  to  literary  pursuits.  There  I  leave  him 
until  ten  years  later,  when,  through  a  singular  train  of 
circumstances,  he  again  injected  himself  into  my  life. 
I  shall  have  more  to  say  about  him  in  its  proper  place. 


[69] 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

EARNINGS  OF  FIVE  YEARS  ASCEND  IN  SMOKE — FAILURE 
OF  HEALTH — OFF  TO  THE  ROCKIES 

Five  years  of  devotion  to  what  I  had  come  to  regard 
as  a  "mission"  at  St.  Charles,  found  me  in  a  condition 
bordering  on  nervous  collapse,  and  I  was  advised  that  a 
change  of  climate  was  essential  to  continued  existence. 
While  there  I  had  participated  in  a  ten  days'  editorial 
excursion  to  Denver,  and  having  been  benefited  almost 
beyond  belief  by  the  diversion,  and,  moreover,  enrap- 
tured by  the  enchanting  scenery  of  Colorado,  and  stim- 
ulated by  its  life-giving  atmosphere,  I  determined  to  mi- 
grate thither,  and,  under  the  stimulus  of  its  effulgent 
sunshine  and  the  tonic  of  its  ozone-laden  air,  undertake 
the  rebuilding  of  health  and  rehabilitation  of  fortune. 

I  sold  my  newspaper  property  to  W.  A.  McHenry  at 
a  good  figure,  but  was  forced  to  take  mortgage  notes  in 
payment  for  it.  A  few  months  later  the  printing  plant 
was  completely  destroyed  by  fire,  and  on  a  fateful  New 
Year's  night,  all  that  was  pledged  to  secure  payment  of 
my  lien — the  concrete  product  of  five  years'  arduous  la- 
bor— went  up  in  smoke.  The  mortgagor  had  permitted 
all  insurance  to  lapse,  and  what  I  had  counted  upon  to 
start  me  in  business  in  the  far  west  was  irretrievably 
lost. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow,  calculated  to  paralyze  the 
average  man.  It  must  be  that  I  was  not  entitled  to  that 
classification,  for  I  determined  not  to  permit  it  to  dis- 
courage me  or  alter  my  determination  to  hew  out  a  for- 
tune for  myself,  plus  at  least  a  modicum  of  fame,  under 

[70] 


the  shadows  and  uplifting  influence  of  the  rugged  moun- 
tains of  my  new  home.  Restoration  of  health  was  the 
first  consideration,  and  I  happily  chose  the  speediest  road 
to  that  consideration. 

Journeying  to  Fort  Collins,  in  the  spring  of  '76,  I 
sought  out  the  largest  rancher  in  the  Cache-le  Poudre 
Valley,  Mr.  William  Batchelder,  and  tendered  my  ser- 
vices in  herding  his  sheep,  of  which  he  possessed  thous- 
ands. The  fact  that  he  did  not  need  an  additional  herder 
at  that  time,  a  circumstance  he  stated  without  expendi- 
ture of  surplus  gentility,  had  not  the  slightest  influence 
upon  my  purpose.  The  more  important  fact  that  I  should 
exact  no  wages,  and  that  I  would  serve  him  as  faithfully 
as  though  abundantly  remunerated,  had  the  desired 
effect. 

On  the  following  morning  I  was  placed  in  charge  of 
a  band  of  sheep  in  the  foot  hills,  remote  from  the  ranch 
house,  and  provided  with  a  tent  for  shelter  from  sun  and 
rain,  an  iron  cot,  sheet  iron  stove,  a  chest  of  cooking 
utensils,  rifle  and  revolver. 

Thus  I  began  a  new  life,  the  varied  delights  of  which 
may  not  easily  be  portrayed.  My  duties,  with  the  aid  of 
a  number  of  those  singularly  intelligent  animals  known 
as  shepherd  dogs,  consisted  mainly  in  keeping  the  sheep 
from  straying  away,  and  protecting  them  from  the  rav- 
ages of  mountain  lions  and  other  beasts  of  prey.  Oc- 
casionally they  were  stampeded  at  night  by  those  pred- 
atory animals,  and  scattered  for  miles  over  the  foothills, 
the  only  occasions  when  the  labor  became  at  all  strenu- 
ous. When  such  visitations  were  coincident  with  thunder 
storms,  the  element  of  danger  in  the  task  was  three- fold, 
since,  in  the  darkness  encompassing  the  hills,  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  pick  one's  way  over  unseen  fallen  timber,  half- 
concealed  precipices  and  other  pitfalls,  and  to  avoid  too 
close  contact  with  the  great  yellow  monsters,  watching 

[71] 


in  covert  hiding  places  for  opportunities  stealthily  to 
approach  the  sleeping  band  of  sheep,  gather  a  lamb  in 
their  capacious  jaws,  and  noiselessly  return  to  their 
haunts  high  up  on  the  mountainside. 

Upon  one  such  occasion,  after  the  entire  night  had 
been  spent  in  repelling  repeated  forays  of  this  nature,  I 
had  lighted  a  large  fire  on  the  side  of  a  "draw"  in  the 
mountains,  perhaps  fifty  feet  wide,  to  thaw  myself  out 
and  dry  my  clothing,  and  had  thrown  myself  on  a  blanket 
on  a  shelving  rock  near  by.  I  awakened  from  a  sound 
slumber,  just  as  day  was  breaking,  and,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, observed,  through  my  half-closed  optics,  an  im- 
mense cat,  with  a  lamb  in  its  mouth,  leisurely  ascending 
the  opposite  slope. 

It  was  my  first  sight  of  a  mountain  lion,  and  I  con- 
fess to  a  little  shakiness,  a  slight  tendency  of  the  heart 
to  escape  through  the  throat,  as  I  grasped  my  rifle  and 
brought  it  to  bear  upon  the  huge  bulk  of  the  audacious 
brute. 

Did  I  miss  my  aim  ?  Hardly.  Blindfolded,  one  could 
scarcely  miss  a  broadside  target  such  as  that,  thirty 
paces  distant,  but  the  ball  failed  to  reach  a  vital  organ, 
and  a  second  was  necessary^  to  its  final  dispatch.  The 
animal,  from  tip  of  nose  to  end  of  tail,  measured  over 
nine  feet,  and  I  am  sure  Teddy  Roosevelt  was  never 
prouder  of  rhino  trophy  in  South  Africa  than  I  of  that 
monster,  brought  down  on  the  slopes  of  Sawtooth  moun- 
tain. 

Days  and  weeks  thus  passed  without  sight  of  human 
being,  days  of  quiet  rest  in  the  shade  of  my  tent,  reading 
favorite  books,  smoking  friendly  pipe,  and  for  diversion 
engaging  in  pistol  practice,  with  bounding  jack  rabbits 
or  coiled  rattlesnakes  for  quarry. 

The  glory  of  the  sunrise,  coming  out  from  the  distant 
east  over  measureless  level  wastes  of  buffalo  grass,  and 

[72] 


lighting  with  flames  of  fire  the  miriad  snow-clad  spires 
and  pinnacles  of  the  lofty  mountain  range  that  stretched 
out  its  broad  arms  as  far  to  north  and  south  as  eye  could 
see,  was  equalled,  if  not  surpassed,  by  the  hardly  less 
beautiful,  though  more  subdued,  effect  of  moonlight  on 
the  mountains  and  plains,  clothing  the  foliage  of  lofty 
pines  and  rugged  rocks  and  verdured  tablelands  with  a 
mantle  of  satiny  sheen. 

Three  months  of  that  sort  of  life,  and  I  was  ready 
for  braver  enterprises  and  a  more  strenuous  career.  I 
had  put  breakfast  foods  in  the  discard,  and  placed  sole 
reliance  upon  canned  pork  and  beans,  and  like  substan- 
tial flesh  and  nerve-building  foods. 


[Tl] 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  SUMMER  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS — PERILOUS  ASCENT  OF 
LONG'S  PEAK — TRIUMPHANT  TOUR 

Pooling  issues  with  an  asthmatic  friend  from  Cin- 
cinnati, Henry  Wood,  we  bought  two  horses,  a  wagon, 
and  a  complete  camping  outfit,  and  started  upon  a  leis- 
urely tour  of  the  State,  taking  in  North,  South  and  Mid- 
dle Parks — a  day  here,  a  week  there,  as  good  fishing  or 
hunting  directed,  living  mainly  upon  the  product  of  rifle 
or  hook-and-line,  and  putting  in  such  a  summer  of  joyous 
sport  as  two  rejuvenated  semi-invalids  rarely  ever  en- 
joyed. 

We  made  a  somewhat  perilous  ascent  of  Long's  Peak 
to  its  very  apex,  14,380  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  to 
witness  a  gorgeous  sunrise  from  that  lofty  elevation, 
camping  at  timberline  the  first  night,  and  rising  at  four 
in  the  morning  to  make  the  final  climb.  The  last  mile 
was  over  vast  beds  of  frozen  snow,  frequently  at  an  agle 
of  45  degrees,  sometimes  standing  upright,  but  oftener 
prone  on  our  faces,  cutting  our  way  through  icy  barriers 
with  dirk  knives,  measuring  each  step  with  great  pre- 
cision, lest  we  miss  our  footing  and  be  precipitated  into 
the  depths,  thousands  of  feet  below. 

At  one  point  we  were  compelled  to  creep  on  hands 
and  knees,  on  a  narrow  shelf  of  rock,  around  a  semi- 
circular curve  in  the  mountain,  so  narrow  indeed  that  a 
portion  of  our  bodies  projected  over  a  sheer  precipice  of 
almost  unfathomable  depth. 

But  the  goal  finally  was  reached,  and  the  view  that 
met  our  gaze  was  so  truly  wonderful  and  entrancing  as 

[74] 


HON.     ALVA    ADAMS 

Twice   Governor  of  Colorado 


HON.     FREDERICK    W.     PITKIN 
Early   Governor   of  Colorado 


HON.    JAMES    B.    GRANT 

First  Democratic  Governor 

of    Colorado 

HON.  JESSIE  R.  MCDONALD 

Late  Governor  of  Colorado 


to  well  repay  all  the  hardships  endured.  The  great  chain 
of  mountains,  three  hundred  miles  in  width,  extended 
north  and  south  to  the  limit  of  vision,  cloaked  in  a  mantel 
of  eternal,  never-melting  snow ;  the  vast  plain,  level  as  a 
floor,  reaching  out  to  the  eastern  horizon. 

Although  eighty  miles  distant,  so  clear  was  the  at- 
mosphere, the  houses  and  fences  in  Denver  could  plainly 
be  seen,  while  to  the  southward,  120  miles  away,  a  train 
of  cars  on  the  D.  and  R.  G.  R.  R.  was  seen  rounding  a 
curve  in  the  vicinity  of  Pueblo. 

Return  to  timberline  was  more  speedy  and  less  peril- 
ous, and  after  a  few  days'  rest  we  were  off  in  search 
of  new  worlds  to  conquer. 

Approach  of  winter  brought  an  end  to  our  expedi- 
tion, and  on  a  bleak  November  day  we  drove  into  Den- 
ver, defying  any  one  to  identify  us  as  the  two  semi-inva- 
lids who,  six  months  before,  had  unfurled  our  banners 
and  set  out  for  sight  of  the  high  places. 

Were  I  not  writing  for  a  new  generation,  presumably 
unfamiliar  with  Colorado's  earlier  history,  it  would  be 
unnecessary  to  refer  to  the  salient  features  of  its  marvel- 
ous growth  and  development,  but  it  seems  more  or  less 
essential,  since  it  proved  to  be  the  scene  of  my  labors  for 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  within  its  borders 
were  to  be  found  opportunity  for  health,  wealth  and  hap- 
piness. 

Every  influence  of  earth  and  air  early  inclined  me  to 
its  majestic  mountain  ranges,  its  expansive  parks,  and 
broad  sweeps  of  verdured  plain,  its  crystal  streams  and 
roaring  cataracts,  its  ozone-laden  atmosphere  and  its 
effulgent  sunshine.  Our  single  season's  sojourn  had  suf- 
ficed to  restore  the  wasted  tissues,  to  multiply  the  red 
corpuscles  of  the  blood,  to  dissipate  the  brain  fag,  and  to 
rehabilitate  and  rejuvenate  every  function  of  the  body. 
Contact  with  the  earth  and  exposure  to  the  air  had 

[75] 


stamped  me  with  a  ruddiness  that  would  not  wash  off, 
added  luster  to  the  eye,  firmness  and  assurance  to  the 
step,  hope  and  good  cheer  to  mind  and  heart.  I  walked 
on  air,  my  thoughts  as  lofty  as  the  mountain  range  that 
formed  the  western  barrier,  and  I  was  impatient  to 
plunge  into  inviting  activities. 


F76] 


CHAPTER  XX. 

GLIMPSE  OF  THE  EARLY  COLORADO — PROGRESS  FROM 
GRAZING  TO  GOLD  AND  SILVER  GREATNESS 

Denver,  at  that  time,  was  a  straggling  city  of  scarce 
20,000  population,  and  there  were  few  places  of  any  im- 
portance elsewhere  in  the  State.  Father  Meeker,  in- 
spired by  the  optimism  of  the  sage  of  the  New  York 
Tribune,  had  started  a  little  colony  in  the  north,  and 
named  it  Greeley. 

General  Palmer,  General  Cameron  and  their  asso- 
ciates, from  Philadelphia,  had  just  laid  the  foundation 
for  Colorado  Springs  and  Manitou  in  the  south. 

Pueblo,  later  the  "Pittsburg  of  the  West,"  was  little 
more  than  an  outfitting  point  for  prospectors  for  the 
San  Juan  country,  while  Georgetown  and  Central  City, 
on  the  west,  divided  honors,  one  a  gold,  the  other  a  silver 
camp,  although  a  single  mountain  spur  separated  them. 

The  original  hegira  to  Colorado  was  occasioned  by 
the  discovery  of  placer  gold  in  Cherry  Creek,  near  the 
present  site  of  Denver,  and  this  was  known  as  the 
"Pike's  Peak  excitement".  When  the  gravel  beds  there 
became  too  lean  to  warrant  further  exploitation,  miners 
abandoned  the  field  and  found  their  way  into  the  moun- 
tains to  the  westward,  in  more  or  less  successful  search 
for  gold  and  silver,  and  thus  Georgetown,  Central  City 
and  Black  Hawk  came  into  being. 

Another  contingent  pushed  their  way  farther  into 
the  heart  of  the  Rockies,  and  California  Gulch,  some  200 
odd  miles  to  the  south  and  west,  disclosed  auriferous 

[77] 


wealth  compared  with  which  Croesus*  horde  or  Inca's 
gold  fades  into  insignificance. 

Scarce  a  mile  from  the  present  site  of  Leadville,  a* 
camp  christened  "Oro  City",  had  grown  from  a  strag- 
gling, one-street  village,  of  a  few  hundred  inhabitants, 
to  a  city  of  60,000  within  a  twelve  month ;  that  was  way 
back  in  the  early  60's. 

The  placers  exhausted,  Oro  City  vanished,  almost 
as  magically  as  it  had  arisen,  and  a  few  years  later  only 
half  a  hundred  men  were  left  to  continue  the  search  for 
the  source  of  the  gulch  gold  in  the  mountain  range  that 
encompassed  it.  "Tabor's  Store,"  a  famous  land  mark, 
was  about  all  that  remained  of  Oro  City  when  I  first 
saw  it  in  my  tour  of  the  State  in  76. 

Mining  was  not  a  flourishing  industry  at  that  time. 
Cattle  and  sheep  raising  were  esteemed  the  more  remu- 
nerative, and  claimed  the  attention  of  the  greater  num- 
ber of  persons.  The  Kansas  Pacific  had  been  completed 
to  Denver,  and  a  line  northward  to  Cheyenne,  the  Den- 
ver Pacific,  afforded  an  outlet  to  the  east  and  west  by 
junction  there  with  the  Union  Pacific  and  its  connec- 
tions. The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  then  a  narrow- 
gauge  line,  connected  Denver  with  Pueblo,  120  miles 
southward,  and  that  constituted  the  entire  transporta- 
tion facilities  of  the  State. 

There  was  a  gradual  increase  of  population,  but  its 
natural  advantages  and  resources  were  but  little  appre- 
ciated at  home  or  known  abroad. 

The  wonderful  mineral  springs  at  Manitou,  resorted 
to  by  ailing  red  men  before  white  occupation,  drew  a 
few  hundred  people  from  the  East  every  season,  but 
the  marvelous  wealth  of  the  State,  in  base  as  well  as 
precious  metals,  in  coal,  and  especially  iron,  and  the 
adaptability  of  the  soil  to  cereals,  to  hay,  and  more  par- 
ticularly to  fruit,  was  not  even  dreamed  of. 

[78] 


In  1876  the  ranchers,  for  the  first  time  in  history, 
produced  more  wheat  than  could  be  consumed  in  the 
commonwealth.  Freight  rates  were  prohibitive,  and  it 
was  seen  that  wheat  production  must  be  restricted,  or 
home  consumption  increased,  the  solution  of  the  problem 
being  a  tacit  agreement  to  diversify  crops,  and  join  ID 
the  efforts  being  made  to  promote  migration  and  coloni- 
zation. 


[79] 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THRILLING  RAILWAY  HISTORY — GUARDING  MOUNTAIN 
PASS  WITH  CANNON — GORGE  FORTIFIED 

Having  lost  my  "stake"  by  fire  at  St.  Charles,  I  had 
an  immediate  personal  problem  to  solve,  the  bread-and- 
butter  issue.  Finding  that  the  pay  of  printers  was  more 
remunerative  than  that  of  editors,  I  turned  to  my  trade 
for  sustenance,  although  later  I  was  influenced  to  ex- 
change "stick  and  rule"  for  pen.  My  initial  assignment 
was  to  furnish  the  Rocky  Mountain  News  with  a  report 
of  the  first  excursion  over  the  Denver,  South  Park  and 
Pacific  Railway  to  Dome  Rock,  in  the  canon  of  the  South 
Platte  River,  a  distance  of  about  twenty  miles  from 
Denver. 

My  production  was  so  satisfactory  to  the  manage- 
ment of  the  paper  that  I  was  at  once  offered  the  position 
of  chief  editorial  writer  for  the  paper,  retaining  it  until 
the  Democrats  secured  control  and  changed  its  politics. 
The  distinction  was  mine  of  having  edited  the  last  num- 
ber of  the  News  as  a  Republican  journal.  I  then  took 
the  city  editor's  desk,  where  I  could  grind  out  all  manner 
of  stuff  without  shock  to  my  conscience,  and  I  retained 
that  place  during  the  remainder  of  my  sojourn  in  Den- 
ver. 

But  a  word  in  passing  about  that  little  railroad,  which 
a  noted  traffic  man  humorously  described  as  "starting  at 
a  stone  quarry  and  running  up  a  tree."  The  Denver, 
South  Park  and  Pacific  was  the  exclusive  enterprise  of 
local  merchants  and  capitalists,  but  I  question  if  any  of 

[80] 


the  original  incorporators  had  the  slightest  conception 
of  where  it  was  going,  when  or  why. 

Nevertheless  the  inspiration  of  Ex-Governor  Evans, 
for  whom  Evanston,  Illinois,  was  named,  proved  to  be 
the  most  profitable  bit  of  railway  construction  ever  en- 
tered upon  in  the  United  States,  the  stockholders  receiv- 
ing $248  for  every  dollar  invested,  when  the  line  was 
absorbed  by  the  Union  Pacific.  This  was  brought  about 
by  the  later  marvelous  discoveries  of  carbonate  ore  at 
Leadville,  resulting  in  an  immense  tonnage. 

The  management  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  had 
decided  to  extend  its  line  to  Leadville  by  way  of  Pueblo 
and  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas,  and  although  a 
hundred  miles  farther,  it  beat  the  Denver,  South  Park 
and  Pacific  to  the  goal  by  several  months. 

The  history  of  the  struggle  of  each  road  reads  like 
a  romance.  The  latter  was  extended  a  mile  a  day,  the 
traffic  paying  all  operating  expenses,  fixed  charges  and 
cost  of  construction. 

Passengers  for  Leadville  were  taken  to  the  end  of 
the  track,  where  stages  were  in  waiting  to  transport  them 
hence  to  destination,  a  weary  ride  over  lofty  mountain 
ranges,  occupying  thirty-six  additional  hours. 

But  it  often  happened  that  more  persons  were  tick- 
eted over  the  line  than  could  be  furnished  with  seats  in 
the  coaches,  holders  of  through  tickets  from  the  East 
being  given  preference,  and  upon  such  occasions,  there 
being  no  means  for  their  entertainment,  nothing  was 
left  for  the  hapless  passengers  but  to  return  to  Denver 
by  the  train' that  took  them  out,  and  try  for  better  luck 
next  day. 

The  railway  charged  ten  cents  a  mile  from  Denver  to 
the  "end  of  the  track,"  while  the  stage  fare  exceeded 
that. 

Freight  rates  were  something  to  conjure  with,  more 

[81] 


from  Denver  to  Leadville  than  from  New  York  to  Den- 
ver. To  be  explicit,  the  commodity  rate  from  Denver  to 
Leadville,  for  a  long  time,  was  maintained  at  $29  a  ton, 
or  $1.95  per  cwt,  a  rate  in  excess  of  that  from  New 
York,  by  way  of  Cape  Horn,  to  Guymas,  on  the  Gulf  of 
California,  or  from  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  to  the 
Firth  of  Clyde. 

Nor  was  it  always  possible  to  secure  transportation 
for  the  less  desirable  classes  of  freight,  the  wagon 
freighters  being  the  arbiters,  free  to  accept  only  such 
goods  as  yielded  the  larger  revenue. 

When  the  road  had  reached,  and  was  being  operated, 
to  the  Platte  Canon,  one  man,  A.  S.  Hughes,  filled  all  of 
the  administrative  and  operative  berths  in  the  company 
below  the  presidency.  This  "Poo  Bah"  of  the  early  days 
was  vice-president,  secretary,  treasurer,  general  man- 
ager, freight  and  passenger  agent,  and,  singularly 
enough,  not  being  provided  with  an  office,  the  books  and 
records  of  the  company  were  kept  in  a  convenient  drug 
store ! 

It  is  related  of  Hughes  that,  at  a  later  period  and 
after  the  gauge  of  his  road  had  been  changed,  upon  ap- 
plying for  exchange  of  passes  with  the  Kansas  Pacific 
Railway,  he  was  asked  by  the  General  Manager  thereof 
where  his  railroad  was  located.  Catching  the  irony  of- 
the  interrogation,  he  replied:  "Oh,  I'll  admit  my  road 
isn't  as  long  as  yours,  but  it's  as  wide." 

While  this  little  "jerk-water"  road  was  reaping  its 
golden  harvest  in  the  early  Leadville  trade,  its  coming 
rival  was  being  held  up  at  the  gateway,  the  southern  por- 
tal of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas.  Engineers  had 
reported  this  the  only  feasible  outlet  to  the  upper  Arkan- 
sas Valley,  and  its  possession  was  being  contested  by  the 
Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe. 

There  was  room  in  the  narrow  gorge  for  but  a  single 

[82] 


track,  the  precipitous  walls  on  either  side  rising  to  a 
height  of  3,000  feet.  So  bitter  was  the  contest  waged 
that  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  in  order  to  maintain 
possession,  fortified  it  with  cannon,  and  mounted  a  heavy 
guard  at  each  entrance,  twelve  miles  apart.  The  con- 
troversy was  finally  determined  by  the  courts,  adversely 
to  the  foreign  corporation,  and  the  work  of  construction 
thereafter  was  pushed  with  the  utmost  vigor. 

The  cost  of  this  section  of  the  line  was  enormous, 
$100,000  a  mile  for  a  portion  of  the  distance. 

So  narrow  is  the  chasm  through  the  "Royal  Gorge" 
that  it  became  necessary  to  hang  a  bridge  to  the  opposing 
walls,  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  parallel  with 
instead  of  across  the  river.  At  this  point  the  Arkansas 
is  compressed  within  a  channel  scarcely  fifty  feet  in 
width,  through  which  the  angry  waters  rush  and  roar 
at  all  times  with  the  thunderous  noise  of  a  Niagara. 

The  first  train  over  the  "Baby  Road,"  as  it  then  was 
called,  reached  Leadville  in  July,  1880,  and  numbered 
among  its  passengers  General  Ulysses  Grant  and  wife, 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Fred  Grant,  and  the  party  that  accom- 
panied the  ex-President  on  his  trip  around  the  world, 
an  epoch-making  day  for  the  City  of  the  Clouds,  surely! 


[83] 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PRIVILEGED  PEEP  INTO  THE  ARCHIVES  OF  THE  DENVER 
AND  Rio  GRANDE  RAILWAY 

Written  for  the  general  reader,  unacquainted  with 
the  intricacies  of  mining,  smelting  and  railway  construc- 
tion, I  have  endeavored  to  avoid  technicalities  as  much 
as  possible  in  this  volume  and  keep  away  from  dry  statis- 
tical facts  and  deductions.  In  this  endeavor  I  have  been 
so  successful  as  to  warrant  me  in  departing  from  the 
plan,  to  the  extent  of  a  single  chapter,  in  order  to  give 
place  to  a  most  remarkable  letter  dated  September  15, 
1877,  from  General  Palmer  to  Dr.  Lamborn,  then  Treas- 
urer of  the  company,  in  answer  to  a  communication  from 
the  latter,  written  the  year  previous,  in  which  the  opinion 
was  expressed  that  "the  newly  discovered  deposits  of 
carbonates  in  or  near  California  Gulch  might  draw  a 
railroad  from  the  plains  up  the  Arkansas  Valley  to  tap 
it."  No  such  illuminating  document,  descriptive  of  the 
conditions  obtaining  in  Colorado  prior  to  the  foundation 
of  Leadville,  has  ever  been  given  to  the  public.  For  the 
privilege  of  using  it  in  this  volume  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
Frank  Wadleigh,  chief  traffic  official  of  the  line,  who  dis- 
covered it  lately  among  the  musty  files  of  the  company  in 
the  office  of  the  Treasurer.  It  is  a  most  valuable  contri- 
bution to  the  history  of  Colorado,  and  emphasizes  the 
marvelous  discernment  of  General  Palmer,  the  sagacious 
founder  and  developer  of  the  great  system.  Perusal  of 
it,  and  careful  analysis  of  its  contents,  will  disclose  the 
remarkable  fact  that  the  inducement  to  extend  the  line 

[84] 


Trout    Fishing    Ten   Thousand    Feet    Above    Sea    Level 

Hell   Gate,   Colorado   Midland   Railway,   Twelve   Thousand   Feet   Altitude 
Typical    Miner's   Cabin   Two   Miles    Above   the   Sea 


from  Pueblo  to  California  Gulch  was  a  gross  tonnage  of 
ore  that  since  has  been  equalled  if  not  exceeded  by  that 
of  a  single  mine  in  the  Leadville  district. 

Dear  Sir :  I  was  gone  eight  days  in  South  Park  and 
along  the  Arkansas,  taking  McMurtrie  along,  and  mak- 
ing careful  revision  of  the  ground  and  estimate  of  cost 
with  reference  to  present  prices  of  labor  and  material. 
You  will  doubtless  be  surprised  to  learn  that  I  am  satis- 
fied the  proper  route  is  from  Canon  City  to  Oro  (Lead- 
ville), 110  miles,  with  a  branch  of  39  miles,  if  necessary, 
from  the  mouth  of  Trout  Creek  to  Fairplay — a  cheap 
line  to  build.  We  can  either  run  through  the  Arkansas 
Canon  or  via  the  iron  mines  and  down  Texas  Creek, 
avoiding  the  worst  canon,  and  at  an  increased  'distance 
of  say  fifteen  miles.  This  would  greatly  develop  Wet 
Mountain  Valley,  which  has  a  surplus  of  5,000  tons  best 
hay,  besides  oats  and  potatoes ;  and  Rosita,  which  is  to- 
day as  important  perhaps  as  Fairplay,  and  apparently 
as  large  as  Fairplay,  Dudley  and  Alma  put  together,  and 
has  two  reduction  works  in  full  blast,  with  another  just 
going  up  on  Oak  Creek,  and  according  to  Prof.  Hill's 
statement  to  me,  is  good  for  20  tons  a  day  of  shipping 
ore.  Gold  has  been  found  at  Rosita,  and  R.  N.  Clark, 
who  at  first  doubted,  speaks  quite  differently  now,  since 
the  pocket  seems  so  large.  It  pays  from  discovery  shaft. 
Harrison  guarantees  (guarantee  increased  to  85  tons  of 
ore,  bullion  and  coke  per  day  in  May,  1878)  at  once  to 
a  railroad  15,000  tons  of  the  high  grade  silver  ore  for 
shipment,  besides  the  base  bullion  (33  to  40%)  of  prod- 
uct of  two  furnaces,  and  the  coke  and  merchandise.  I 
will  report  fully  soon  concerning  the  Arkansas  Canon 
route,  but  meanwhile  just  give  you  a  general  idea.  We 
are  only  threatened  by  the  Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe 
Railroad  on  the  south  and  South  Park  on  the  north.  One 
line  built  up  Arkansas  Valley  should  keep  both  off  most 
effectually.  Tonnage  is  larger  than  last  spring  when 
you  sent  me  that  silver-lead  phamphlet  of  Wood  & 
Stevens,  and  said  that  this  deposit  may  serve  to  build  a 
railroad  to  that  country  from  the  plains.  Stevens  esti- 

[85] 


mates  the  daily  shipments  of  ore  with  railroad  1,000  tons 
daily,  Wood,  500  tons  daily.  Meyer  (Harrison's  cau- 
tious manager),  who  certainly  has  no  interest  in  magni- 
fying, says  it  is  safe  to  assume  for  a  number  of  years  a 
tonnage  equal  to  what  is  now  being  produced,  which  he 
says  is  50  tons  daily  (of  which  30  tons  is  high  grade  for 
shipping  and  20  tons  for  smelting  at  his  works;  esti- 
mate very  much  increased  since).  Every  gulch  in  the 
120  miles  of  Arkansas  Valley,  however,  from  Grape 
Creek  to  Tennessee  Pass,  on  each  side  of  Arkansas  river, 
seem  to  have  men  working.  It  is  a  great  advantage  that 
the  main  Continental  range  doubles  back  from  the  head 
of  the  Arkansas  all  the  way  to  Poncha,  70  miles,  in 
course  of  which  it  averages,  perhaps,  not  much  over 
twelve  miles  between  Continental  water  shed  and  Ar- 
kansas river.  The  country  on  the  west  side  is  the  well- 
known  Elk  Mountain  country,  very  promising  in  mineral 
(see  map).  There  are  smelting  works  on  Chalk  Creek, 
and  another  just  going  up;  a  mill  or  two  at  Granite; 
one  smelting  furnace  at  Malta;  one  at  Oro  (Leadville)  ; 
one  mill  at  Printer  Boy  mine,  California  Gulch;  say 
three  reductions  works  at  Rosita;  Harrison's  manager 
says  they  will  reduce  in  each  furnace  20  tons  of  car- 
bonate lead  ore  daily  (they  already  want  a  car-load  of 
coke  per  day  from  us  for  six  months  to  feel  safe).  The 
50  tons  daily  being  now  mined  averages  30  oz.  silver 
and  40%  lead  to  the  ton  of  2,000  pounds.  Ten  bushels 
of  coke  are  used  to  one  ton  of  ore;  25%  iron  ore  to  one 
ton  of  silver  ore.  He  has  about  200  tons  of  our  coke 
on  hand  awaiting  commencement;  will  begin  operating 
one  furnace  October  1,  another  in  the  spring.  This  car- 
bonate district  extends  from  Iowa  to  Evans  Gulch,  say 
two  miles  long,  \y2  miles  wide.  The  ore  is  in  three  great 
breaks  of  the  strata.  There  are  said  to  be  six  to  eight 
such  breaks  between  South  Park  rim  on  the  east  (head 
of  Mosquito  range  of  South  Park,  gulch  opposite  Fair- 
play)  and  Arkansas  river  on  west,  distance  of  say  eight 
or  ten  miles.  About  eight  or  ten  mines  were  benig 
worked,  turning  out  ore,  while  I  was  there.  Wood  & 
Stevens  have  a  mile  in  length  on  the  Strayhorse  break 

[86] 


on  which  they  have  shafts  sunk  to  mineral,  continuously 
or  close  enough  to  show  continuity  of  deposit.  In  rich- 
ness, however,  the  "Gallagher,"  abutting  them  on  the 
north,  far  exceeds.  Everything  appears  to  pay  from 
time  of  striking  deposit,  10  to  20  feet  down.  The  Hays 
&  Cooper  mines  were  discovered  a  week  or  two  before 
my  arrival,  within  200  or  300  yards  of  Harrison's  new 
furnace.  There  was  considerable  excitement,  and  Sena- 
tor Logan  and  Governor  Routt  were  there,  and  out  with 
picks,  searching  for  ore.  Archer's  Homestake,  a  true 
fissure  silver  mine,  is  some  eight  miles  further  up,  near 
Tennessee  Pass.  There  also  are  two  or  three  fissure 
mines  at  head  of  Evans  Gulch,  near  California  Gulch, 
around  which  most  appears  to  concentrate,  and  which 
is  said  to  have  produced  over  three  millions  of  gold  in 
early  days.  It  was  the  richest  placer  found,  I  believe, 
in  Colorado.  They  are  still  washing  there  by  a  large 
canal  from  Arkansas  river,  and  small  water  works  from 
the  gulch.  The  Printer  Boy,  a  famous  gold  mine,  with 
substantial  works,  is  three  miles  above  Harrison's  fur- 
nace, California  gulch;  not  now  at  work.  Fourteen 
miles  down  the  Arkansas  are  the  Twin  Lakes.  With  a 
railroad  this  would  be  the  most  attractive  summering 
spot  in  Colorado,  and  could  not  be  exhausted  of  fish.  The 
lower  lake  is  2%  miles  diameter,  the  upper  a  mile 
or  more.  Two  peaks,  of  about  14,000  feet,  look  down 
upon  the  lakes,  on  either  side.  I  doubt  if  it  would  be 
necessary  to  build  for  some  time  the  branch  to  Fairplay. 
so  that  less  than  $1,000,000  would  be  absolutely  neces- 
sary. If  built  to  Fairplay,  add  30  tons  of  ore  daily  from 
that  district,  besides  merchandise.  The  carbonate  of 
lead  district  alone,  on  present  yield,  and  Harrison's  guar- 
antee, would  pay  as  follows,  so  say  nothing  of  any  of  the 
other  numerous  mineral  deposits  from  Rosita  to  Ten- 
nessee Pass  or  the  South  Park,  which  would  come  in  at 
Trout  Creek.  By  the  way,  active  prospecting  has  traced 
the  lead  deposits  southeast  down  Arkansas  Valley,  below 
Trout  Creek,  and  on  most  of  the  gulches  between  Trout 
Creek  and  Oro.  The  hematite  ore  deposits  at  Oro,  Pon- 
cha,  etc.,  are  rich  and  extensive,  and  at  Oro  can  be  pro- 

[87] 


duced  cheaply  (Captain  Breese,  who  is  acquiring  all  at 
Oro,  says  he  can  deliver  at  Harrison's  furnace  at  fifty 
cents  a  ton).  We  visited  the  mine.  It  will  last,  I  sup- 
pose, as  long  as  Grape  Creek  deposit,  and  may  come  in 
well  to  mix  with  other  ores.  Rough  estimate  114  miles 
to  Canon  City  via  Arkansas  Canon  to  Oro....$l, 000,000 

Ten  per  cent  on  which  is  per  annum 100,000 

Cost  of  operating,  say  114  miles  (with  52-feet 
grade  for  most  of  the  way  and  no  swing- 
ing grades)  would  not  exceed  $10,000 

per    month  120,000 

Necessary  to  earn  gross  yearly,  therefore,  to 
pay  operating  expenses  and  10%  interest 
on  cost 220,000 

ORE  AND  COKE  BUSINESS  ALONE  OF  ORO  ONLY. 

Harrison's  guarantee,  15,000  tons  high  grade, 
he  now  pays  $18  ($25  per  ton  paid  in  win- 
ter) per  ton  ore  to  the  Mexican  wagons, 
freight  to  Colorado  Springs,  and  say  by 
railroad  (half  present  cost)  $9 $135,000 

Forty  tons  daily  of  low  grade  ore  reduced  in  to 
Harrison's  furnaces  to  13  tons  base  bullion 
daily,  4,700  tons,  $9 43,000 

Requiring  10  tons  coke  daily,  3,650  tons  for 
which  he  now  pays  freight  from  Colorado 
Springs  $12  per  ton,  say  by  railroad  half, 
or  $6  ($25  paid  for  half  the  year  when  ox 
teams  not  practicable) 22,000 

Omaha  Works,  in  high  grade  ores,  shipped  out 

ten  tons  per  day 32,000 

Total    .$232,000 

The  product  of  other  than  two  furnaces  at  Oro 
(Eureka  has  17)  with  the  ores  of  other  shippers  than 
Harrison  and  Omaha,  and  the  passengers,  merchandise, 
express,  timber  (the  Upper  Arkansas  Valley  is  well  tim- 
bered for  Colorado),  grain,  hay,  etc.,  of  this  district,  and 
the  same,  besides  ores  and  coke  for  all  the  other  gulches, 
between  Rosita,  at  head  of  Arkansas,  and  for  South 
Park,  with  the  coal  from  Canon  City,  could  be  allowed 

[88] 


for  insurance  of  above  calculation,  dividends,  etc.  I 
sent  you  statement  of  shipments  to  and  from  Colorado 
Springs  Station  by  our  railway  in  detail,  January  1  to 
September  1,  for  and  from  South  Park,  Oro,  etc.  By 
building  from  Canon,  110  miles,  we  would,  of  course, 
thoroughly  control  the  trade  and  carry  it  to  Denver  as 
readily  as  Pueblo.  We  could  discourage  Denver  ex- 
tending the  South  Park  Railroad,  thus  as  readily  as  by 
building  from  Colorado  Springs.  Denver  now  gets 
most  of  Canon  City  and  Colorado  Springs  trade.  But 
without  more  detail  I  will  enumerate  some  points  for 
your  reflection: 

ADVANTAGES  OF  CANON  ROUTE. 

1.  Low  gradent,  52  feet  per  mile  for  80  miles,  75 
feet  maximum  for  remainder ;  can  carry  coal  in  and  ore 
out  cheaply.  A  24-ton  engine  on  eight  driving  wheels 
(three  tons  to  a  wheel,  same  weight  as  our  Fairlie), 
could  haul  20  cars  loaded,  up  to  Malta,  and  any  number 
down.  Our  Fairlie  can  bring  50  or  more  cars  of  coal 
from  Canon  mines  to  Pueblo,  and  take  supplies  back; 
also  merchandise  and  passengers  attached. 

2.  Good,  sweet  water  all  the  way  in  abundance. 

3.  Good  winter  route,  deep  valley,  no  snows  to 
bother;  these  would  trouble  all  the  way  across  South 
Park. 

4.  Has    considerable    timber    and    population    en 
route. 

5.  The  Arkansas,  after  30  miles  up  from  Canon 
City,  is  a  good  agricultural  valley,  all  the  way  to  near  the 
mouth  of  Piney,  say  60  miles.    Less  upper  canon,  above 
Pleasant  Park,  10  miles,  leaves  50  miles  of  good  agricul- 
tural valley  for  oats,  wheat,  field  peas,  potatoes,  hay, 
barley,  etc.    It  is  greatly  to  our  interest  to  control  such 
valleys,  so  that  we  can  give  the  farmers  protective  rates 
and  get  the  country  settled  up  and  secure  carrying  of 
supplies  back  and  passengers. 

6.  It  would  form  the  most  valuable  tourist  route  in 
Colorado.    Our  passage  of  the  Veta  has  already  shown 
how  popular  such  railroad  rides,  showing  wonders  of 

[89] 


natural  scenery,  quickly  become.  From  Canon  City  to 
Oro  the  attractions  to  passenger  travel  are  unusual.  The 
Arkansas  Canon  would  undoubtedly  be  traversed  by 
nearly  every  tourist  coming  to  Colorado,  and  much  of 
the  California  travel  would  come  by  way  of  Pueblo  or 
Denver,  in  order  to  take  in  this  bit  of  grand  scenery. 
The  resident  population  of  Colorado  would  mostly  man- 
age to  see  it  by  means  of  excursions,  to  which  the  natives 
are  much  given.  Above  the  Arkansas  Canon  the  ride  is 
mostly  through  the  cultivated,  park-like  valley  of  the 
Upper  Arkansas,  interrupted  by  dashes  into  occasional 
short  canons,  with  rapids  and  falls.  For  60  miles  here 
the  passenger  can  look  up  on  one  side  to  the  Continental 
Divide,  which  the  line  runs  parallel  with,  and  from 
whose  crest  it  is  but  about  12  miles  distant  between  Pon- 
cha  and  Oro.  He  looks  up  in  this  last  three  hours'  rail- 
road ride  at  ten  peaks  whose  elevation  exceeds  14,000 
feet,  and  sees  fields  of  snow  which  drain  into  two  oceans. 
On  the  right  is  the  high  rim  of  the  South  Park.  When 
within  1 1  miles  of  Malta  he  passes  the  outlet  of  the  Twin 
Lakes,  a  mile  or  two  distant,  nearly  encircled  by  high 
mountains,  whose  height  seems  doubled  by  reflection  in 
the  blue  waters.  There  is  nothing  I  know  in  Colorado 
finer  than  this  spot.  The  lakes  attain  a  depth  of  80  to 
100  feet,  and  the  trout  cannot  be  exhausted  here  by 
armies  of  tourists.  The  park  around  Poncha  is  very 
attractive.  The  hot  springs  here  have  the  greatest 
abundance  of  waters,  and  seem  to  be  very  like  those  of 
the  State  of  Arkansas,  while  by  climbing  16  miles  up 
Trout  Creek,  the  basin  of  the  South  Park,  with  the  Snow 
Mountains  opposite  Fairplay,  Grey's  and  Pike's  Peak  are 
seen.  We  have  hitherto  considered  the  Ute  Pass  route 
superior  for  passenger  travel,  because  of  its  proximity 
to  Manitou.  The  Arkansas  Canon,  however,  is  worth 
much  more,  besides  bringing  the  Manitou  frequenters 
and  those  from  Denver  over  82  miles  more  of  Denver 
&  Rio  Grande  line. 

7.  We  have  a  large  amount  of  capital  invested  at 
Pueblo,  Canon  City,  etc.,  which  this  would  make  good. 
Colorado  Springs  was  not  expected  to  rely  upon  mer- 

[90] 


cantile  business,  and  can  be  sustained  on  other  attrac- 
tions. As  regards  the  branch  railroad,  I  take  it  the  re- 
sult is  the  same,  whether  the  gain  goes  to  main  line  or 
branch,  but  by  building  from  Canon  it  may  be  made  to 
benefit  both,  since  all  the  business  from  Denver  would 
pass  over  120  miles  of  main  line,  besides  the  branch,  and 
the  tourists  from  Manitou  would  likewise  traverse  both. 

8.  As  iron  works  will  be  at  Pueblo,  large  smelting 
works,  etc.,  we  could  supply  iron  cheaper  to  the  mines 
in  the  mountains,  the  argument  being  similar  to  the  coal 
traffic. 

9.  It  will  pass  very  large  deposits  of  60%  hematite 
iron  ore  near  Poncha  (up  South  Arkansas),  on  Trout 
Creek,  and  adjoining  Oro.     This  ore  could  be  brought 
down  to  Pueblo  very  cheaply,  and  maybe  the  cheapest 
way  to  get  rich  ores  to  mix  with  the  carbonates  of  Trin- 
idad. 

10.  This  route  has  a  mineral  range  on  each  side  for 
the  whole  distance;  mines  have  been  opened  on  nearly 
every  tributary  and  gulch  on  each  side.    Besides  Rosita, 
recent  strikes  have  been  made  in  Wet  Mountain  Valley ; 
copper  at  Bayles;  copper  at  Poncha,  etc;  with  the  argen- 
tiferous carbonate  of  lead  and  other  silver  deposits,  from 
Trout  Creek  to  head  of  the  Arkansas ;  the  gold  mines  of 
Granite  and  California  Gulch.     Gold  washing  is  being 
carried  on  in  the  Arkansas  river  and  in  side  valleys,  as 
far  down  as  Brown's  Canon,  50  miles  below  Oro. 

11.  The  route  commands  and  helps  develop  besides 
the  immediate  Arkansas  Valley,  collaterly,  the  Rosita 
mines,  our  magnetic  iron  mines  by  a  deviation  of  route, 
Wet  Mountain  Valley  (which  has  2,200  people),  Texas 
Creek  Park,  the  Elk  Mountain  country,  South  Park,  and 
a  country  beyond  the  Tennessee  Pass,  on  head  of  Eagle, 
Grand  and  Blue,   (dominated  by  Mount  of  the  Holy 
Cross),  through  which  wagoning  would    extend    100 
miles,  as  it  now  does  for  100  to  200  miles  west  of  Col- 
orado  Springs,   Canon  City  and  Garland.     The  Wet 
Mountain  Valley  has  over  20,000  head  of  cattle,  and 
with  Texas  Park,  Elk  Mountain  country,  Upper  San 
Luis  Park,  and  the  south  rim  and  slopes  of  South  Park, 

[91] 


constitute  a  large  cattle  country,  and  a  most  important 
factor  in  the  new  dressed-beef  trade. 

12.  It  would  COMMAND  the  following  important 
railroad  passes:     The  Arkansas  Canon,  Grape  Creek 
Canon,  Poncha,  Marshall's  Pass,  Trout  Creek,  Weston's 
Pass  and  Tennessee  Pass ;  some  of  these  against  the  At- 
chison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe,  and  others  against  a  dispo- 
sition to  advance  from  the  Denver  and  South  Park  Co. 

13.  While  the  best  route  for  local  business,  passen- 
ger travel,  gradients,  climate,  water,  strategy,   cheap 
operation,  etc.,  it  also  takes  in  the  South  Park  by  a 
branch  of  39  miles  from  Trout  Creek  to  Fairplay,  cross- 
ing with  no  grade  exceeding  150  feet,  and  that  for  only 
16  miles,  and  which  can  be  built  very  cheaply. 

14.  It  not  only  has  the  main  Continental  range,  12 
miles  distant  on  the  left  (for  70  miles  from  Poncha  Pass 
to  head  of  the  Arkansas)  and  the  limestone  rim  of  the 
South  Park  basin  on  the  right,  but  by  certain  passes 
(through  one  of  the  poorest  of  which,  Cottonwood,  a 
wagon  road  has  already  been  built  by  the  people  of  Col- 
orado Springs)  at  the  head  of  a  branch  of  the  Poncha, 
Chalk  Creek,  Cottonwood,  Lake  Gulch,  etc.,  the  Conti- 
nental divide  is  easily  crossed,  and  the  Elk  Mountains 
can  thus,  in  proper  time,  be  easily  developed. 

15.  I   heard   from   old  miners   and  others   many 
praises  of  the  country  beyond  Oro,  on  Eagle,  Frying 
Pan,  and  Roaring  Fork,  for  precious  minerals,  timber, 
water  and  pastures. 

16.  By  extension  in  due  time,  either  through  Mar- 
shall's Pass  (the  middle  Poncha,  which  heads  direct  with 
the  Tomichi),  down  the  Gunnison  waters,  or  over  the 
Tennessee  Pass,  to  the  Eagle,  or  both,  it  forms  a  cheap 
and  easy  grade  trunk  line,  through  a  good  local  country 
to  the  Grand  River,  from  a  point  on  which  (see  map) 
one  line  can  be  extended  northwesterly  to  the  White 
River  or  the  Green,  and  so  on  to  Salt  Lake ;  and  another 
southwesterly  to  and  through  Southern  Utah,  Southern 
Nevada,  and  the  mines  of  the  Desert  of  California,  to 
Morengo  Pass,  San  Bernardino,  Los  Angeles  and  San 
Diego.     This  would  make  a  real  Central  and  National 


[92] 


Pacific  railroad  line,  good  for  Oregon  and  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia, equally  on  the  west,  and  Chicago  and  Memphis, 
or  Texas,  on  the  east.  This  plan  would  leave  our  south- 
west line,  from  Alamosa,  to  reach  and  develop  the  San 
Juan  proper,  the  Wingate  and  Zuni  districts,  the  copper 
of  the  San  Francisco  Mountains,  the  Prescott  mines  of 
Arizona,  which  I  hear  are  producing  now  about  one  and 
one-half  millions  yearly  (and  whose  ores  are  rich  and 
easily  treated),  and  eventually  be  prolonged  southwest 
to  Tucson,  in  Arizona. 

17.  The  "Marshall  Pass"  route,  from  the  Arkansas 
range  at  Poncha,  would  go  down  the  Gunnison  waters, 
with  Lake  City,  Ouray  and  San  Miguel  mines  on  the 
south,  and  the  Elk  Mountain  country  (of  which  Prof. 
Gardner  formed  most  favorable  opinions)  on  the  north. 

18.  The  Arkansas  Canon  route  to  Oro,  when  ex- 
tended to  Utah,  or  the  Pacific,  would  form  the  most  at- 
tractive passenger  route  across  the  continent  by  all  odds, 
with  the  best  climate  (a  medium  one).    The  southwest- 
ern extension  would  pass  not  far  from  the  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Colorado,  doubtless  the  greatest  scenic  wonder  of 
this  continent. 

19.  The  Oro  carbonate  of  lead  district  furnishes  the 
largest  immediate  business,  being  "poor  men's  mines," 
cheaply  and  quickly  opened,  paying  from  the  grass  roots 
nearly,  and  yielding  50  tons  daily.    They  are  of  particu- 
lar value  to  transporters,  because,  1st,  they  can  be  mined 
and  delivered  at  furnace  or  a. railroad  depot  at  $3  per 
ton.    Some  of  the  ore  is  soft  like  sand,  and  a  good  miner 
has  taken  out  10  tons  of  ore  in  a  day.    Very  little  cap- 
ital or  machinery  required;  2d,  they  furnish  large  im- 
mediate business  in  shipping  high  grade  ores  out;  3d, 
the  ores  smelted  there  will  require  nearly  one  ton  coke 
to  four  tons  ore;  4th,  even  the  low  grade  ores  smelted 
at  Oro  furnish  one  ton  base  bullion  to  every  three  tons 
of  ore  for  transportation  out;  5th,  the  large  number  of 
mines  that  can  be  worked  at  once  when  cheap  transpor- 
tation is  afforded  will  furnish  a  demand  for  large  sup- 
plies, merchandise,  supplies,  provisions,  clothing,  etc., 
back,  with  forage;  6th,  with  a  district  averaging  from 

[93] 


10  to  12  mines  now  opened  over  so  large  an  area,  40% 
lead  and  30  ounces  silver  per  ton,  and  requiring  no  prep- 
aration, how  much  ore  ought  to  be  produced  daily,  if 
freight  per  ton  to  St.  Louis  was  but  $15  per  ton,  instead 
of  $28  as  now  ($18  to  Colorado  Springs,  plus  $10  to  St. 
Louis).  Captain  Breese  says  that  upon  two  months' 
notice  the  district  could  furnish  500  tons  daily,  if  freight 
were  only  $15  to  St.  Louis.  Stevens  says  1,000  tons; 
Wood,  at  least  500  tons.  I  should  think  100  would  at 
least  be  within  bounds.  The  supply  will  last  long  enough, 
anyway,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  build  up  into  activity  other 
mining  districts  along  the  railroad  line  on  each  side  for 
the  whole  distance.  What  would  this  make  lead  cost  at 
St.  Louis  ?  Let  us  see.  The  amount  of  ore  in  Stevens 
and  Wood's  mile  of  continuous  development  by  shafts, 
that  has  in  it  40%  lead  and  10  ounces  silver  ore,  is 
enormous.  Per  Ton 

Cost  mining  and  delivery  ore  at  railroad 

station,  say $  5 

Freight  to  St.  Louis,  via  Canon  City 15 

Per  ton  of  ore $20 

Per  Ton 
Lead 

Equivalent,  say  (at  40%  lead)  to $50 

Deduct  the  silver  in  2^/2  tons  ore,  at  $10....  25 

$25 

Add  cost  of  reduction  per  ton  lead 
Gives  $50  per  ton  lead  as  net  cost  at  St.  Louis,  $25. 
Total,  $50,  or  2y2  cents  per  pound. 

Lead  has  not  gone  down  that  low  yet.  Harrison  tells 
me  the  ore  he  has  been  shipping  over  our  railroad  aver- 
ages 40%  lead  and  over  50  ounces  silver,  and  he  says  it 
would  do  to  ship  at  present  low  prices  of  lead  down  to 
20%  lead,  in  spite  of  the  expensive  wagoning. 

20.  The  carbonate  of  lead  deposits  have  been  traced 
in  the  limestone  on  the  tributaries  of  the  Arkansas  River 
down  to  Trout  Creek,  and  even  I  believe  to  the  South 
Arkansas. 

[94] 


21.  It  is  the  shortest  and  cheapest  single  line  which 
will  at  the  same  time  tend  to  keep  out  both  the  Atchison 
Company  and  the  Denver  and  South  Park  Company 
from  our  territory ;  while  also  certainly  paying  from  the 
start. 

22.  The  westerly  terminus,   near  Oro,   would  be 
within  350  or  400  miles  of  Salt  Lake  City,  which  could 
be  built  for  $3,000,000;  the  most  costly  part  would  be 
already  built. 

23.  One  of  our  last  freight  engines  could  haul  18 
or  20  loaded  cars  (150  tons  freight)  up  the  line  to  Oro 
from  Pueblo. 

24.  The  most  sheltered  and  appropriate  places  for 
consumptives  in  winter  that  I  have  seen  are  the  little 
warm  openings  or  parks  beside  the  dashing  river  which 
separates   the  several  canons  of  the  Arkansas,   from 
Canon  City  up  to  the  South  Arkansas  (Nepesta). 

25.  Sources  of  freight  traffic :  Up — Hay,  coal,  coke, 
merchandise,  machinery,  forage,  flour,  provisions,  gro- 
ceries, etc.     Down — Ores,  base  bullion — lumber,  cattle 
and  beef  both  ways.     Local — Oats,  field  peas,  (every- 
body was  raising  them  in  the  upper  valley)  grasshoppers 
don't  hurt  them,  hay,  wheat,  dairy  produce.    Feeders — 
Wet  Mountain  Valley,  Rosita,  Texas  Creek  Park,  South 
Park,  Poncha,  and  intersecting  valleys  each  side  and 
for  100  miles  in  front  of  Oro.    The  agricultural  country 
above  the  canon  begins  at  mouth  of  South  Arkansas  and 
extends  to  three  miles  above  Riverside  (total  42  miles), 
with  say  12  intersecting  valleys.    Up  the  South  Arkan- 
sas there  is  a  fine  fertile  valley  ten  miles  long  by  two 
wide,  say  10,000  acres.    Even  below,  after  plunging  into 
the  long  canon,  in  ten  miles  from  South  Arkansas,  we 
reach  "Pleasant  Valley/'  where  there  are  twelve-miles- 
in-length  of  open  fertile  park — say  one  mile  wide,  7,500 
acres  good  lands.    Corn,  hay,  barley,  etc.,  were  seen  all 
over  the  park.     After  first  25  miles  above  Canon  City 
the  mountains  begin  to  have  forests  of  fine  timber,  be- 
ginning with  heads  of  Texas  Creek.     Wet  Mountain 
Valley  is  strong  on  hay,  oats  and  potatoes,  all  of  which 
will  probably  be  needed  up  in  the  mountains.    Can  raise 

[95] 


8,000  to  10,000  tons  hay  yearly,  and  for  export  ship 
about  5,000  to  8,000  tons.  Bell's  volunteer  crop  of  oats, 
just  being  cut  when  we  arrived,  was  a  marvel — 6,000 
bushels  on  130  acres  of  land.  The  grasshoppers  des- 
troyed it  last  year,  so  he  did  not  prepare  the  ground  or 
sow  at  all  for  this  crop.  It  came  up  of  its  own  accord. 
Our  ride  from  Texas  Creek  saw  mill  to  cheese  factory, 
17  miles,  was  a  most  interesting  one — a  beautiful 
country,  many  streams  coming  down  from  the  Crestones 
and  Sangre  Cristo  range;  many  ranches,  lots  of  hay, 
timber  on  the  mountains,  a  rolling,  smooth,  glade 
country.  This  is  Texas  Park,  and  is  good  for  perhaps 
3,000  tons  of  hay  yearly.  Dr.  Bell  has  1,000  tons  of 
hay  in  stack  at  his  cheese  factory.  Although  there  is  no 
market  for  hay  now,  there  were  3,000  to  4,000  tons  in 
stack  in  Wet  Mountain  Valley.  If  the  railroad  goes  up 
Arkansas  Canon,  the  shortest  and  cheapest  branch  to 
develop  Wet  Mountain  Valley,  Texas  Park,  and  Rosita 
Ula  mines,  would  perhaps  be  from  the  mouth  of  Texas 
Park  (I  examined  it  down  to  its  mouth),  up  Texas  Park, 
and  across  to  Wet  Mountain  Valley  through  the  country 
last  above  described,  20  miles  to  Ula,  the  capital  of  Wet 
Mountain  Valley,  22  miles  to  Bell's  cheese  factory,  and 
30  in  all  to  Rosita,  a  very  cheap  line,  costing  not  much 
over  $150,000.  But,  if  thought  best  to  avoid  the  main 
Arkansas,  a  good  line  exists  up  Grape  Creek  from  Canon 
City,  past  the  Iron  mines,  thence  over  to  Texas  Creek, 
and  down  to  the  Arkansas  again  at  the  mouth  of  Texas. 
This  would  be,  perhaps,  16  miles  longer,  which  would 
more  than  balance  possibly  the  saving  of  $67,000  in 
grading  and  bridging  over  the  main  Canon  line.  It  must 
be  examined  more  carefully,  however,  as  a  shorter  line 
may  be  got  possibly.  It  would  have  the  advantage  of 
going  by  our  magnetic  iron  mountain,  and  of  crossing 
within  ten  miles,  say,  of  Ula,  with  first-class,  easy  road 
thence  to  all  parts  of  Wet  Mountain  Valley,  including 
Rosita,  18  miles.  Cost  to  build,  complete,  $90,000.  It 
may  be  that  Rosita  is  more  important  than  Fairplay.  If 
so,  Oro  and  Rosita  can  be  reached  for  $1,000,000  (with- 
out equipment),  and  still  use  the  Arkansas  Canon.  The 

[96] 


E.    L.    SALISBURY  W.    S.    WARD 

American  Association  of  Principal  Owner  Morning 

Mining    Engineers  and  Evening  Star  Mines 

PETER     FINNERTY 

Prominent   in   Early   Mining 

Development    Leadville    District 


WM.  L.  DAVIS 

American   Association  of 

Mining   Engineers 


JOHN   L.   EMERSON 

American   Association   of 

Mining   Engineers 


roundabout  line  I  have  described  would  have  150  feet 
grades,  and  be  but  temporary.  In  time  the  line  from 
intersection  down  to  mouth  of  Texas,  or  to  mouth  of 
Grape,  would  be  taken  up  and  used  to  prolong  to  Rosita. 
Rosita  is  nine  miles  from  Bell's,  elevation  8,600,  in 
smooth,  picturesque,  grassy  country.  Clark's  Mill  and 
Mallet  were  running  night  and  day,  producing  410 
pounds  silver  bullion  weekly.  Clark's  is  500  fine; 
Mallet,  900.  (Both  are  running  merely  from  the  old 
dumps  of  Humboldt  mine,  thrown  aside  as  useless  be- 
fore these  works  were  built).  Average  fineness,  say 
800,  say  $340,000  yearly  from  these  works.  Another  is 
about  going  up  on  Oak  Creek.  Clark  is  smelting  six 
tons  daily.  Mallet  seven  tons.  There  are  also  being 
shipped  from  Humboldt,  Bassick  and  Lucille  mines 
three  tons  daily — say  20  tons  per  week— to  Hill  at 
Black  Hawk.  Total,  16  tons,  which  is  worked  up  and 
shipped  daily.  The  ore  reduced  at  Rosita  averages  $50 
per  ton.  The  Virginia,  Humboldt  and  Bassick  are 
running;  Lucille  and  Pocahontas  mines  iust  starting  up. 
Bassick  gets  net  for  his  ore  at  Rosita  $235  per  ton.  This 
is  the  gold  blow-out  to  which  I  have  alluded.  The  Lu- 
cille ore  is  250  to  300  ounces  per  ton  taken  from  the 
shafts,  of  which  there  are  six  (for  600  feet  length).  The 
shipping  ores  going  off  average,  I  believe,  125  ounces 
per  ton.  They  go  over  our  road  from  Canon  to  Denver. 
Prof.  Hill  told  me  he  thought  the  Rosita  district  good 
for  20  tons  shipping  one  daily.  A  good  mine  is  an- 
nounced, since  I  left,  as  discovered  within  a  mile  and  a 
half  of  Ula.  Clark  says  the  Verde  district  opposite 
Bell's,  at  foot  of  Sangre  de  Cristo  range,  is  quite 
promising.  The  wagon  rate  on  ore  from  Rosita  to 
Canon  City  is  $8  per  ton;  on  merchandise  back,  $10  per 
ton.  If  Oro  line  were  built  through  main  Arkansas 
Canon,  getting  the  benefit  of  easy  gradient,  gross  year- 
ly earnings  of  but  $51,000  would  be  required  to  pay 
operating  expenses  ($3,000  per  month),  and  10% 
interest  on  cost  of  building  branch  from  mouth  of  Texas 
Creek  to  develop  Wet  Mountain  Valley,  Rosita  and 
Texas  Park.  After  allowing  present  passenger  travel, 

[97] 


mails  and  expresses,  $42,000  would  be  required  to  be 
earned  yearly,  gross  for  freight  $65  per  train  (one  each 
way  daily),  at  say  $3  per  ton,  equivalent  to  22  tons  each 
way  daily  (three  car  loads).  Would  the  8,000  tons  of 
hay,  potatoes,  oats,  barley,  salt,  (both  smelting  works 
use  it),  coal,  ores,  machinery,  lumber,  dairy  produce, 
etc.,  make  up  this  quantity?  I  think  it  would.  It  looks 
as  though  the  sanguine  predictions  of  our  cautious 
French  expert,  Chapier,  with  regard  to  the  Rosita  dis- 
trict, are  in  a  fair  way  to  be  fulfilled.  I  returned  from 
Rosita  down  the  Hardscrabble  by  wagon  road  to  Pueblo, 
50  miles.  It  is  no  railroad  route,  but  we  came  through 
the  Hardscrabble  Park,  where  there  were  more  crops 
than  I  have  seen  this  year  elsewhere  in  Southern 
Colorado.  A  large  farming  population  is  here,  and  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach  were  crops  (being  gathered)  of 
wheat  and  oats.  All  their  water  is  being:  used  for  irri- 
gation; cause,  no  grasshoppers  last  year.  Hence  they 
had  the  courage  to  plant.  It  will  make  them  independent. 
Now  for  South  Park:  There  was  not  much  change 
since  you  and  I  were  there  last.  At  Alma  Hill's  works 
were  smelting  seven  to  10  tons  daily  into  $1,500  to 
$2,000  per  ton  matte,  and  shipping:  that  to  Black  Hawk. 
Hill  told  me  if  his  works  were  moved  from  Black  Hawk 
to  Denver  he  would  shut  down  Alma,  and  ship  20  tons 
of  ore  daily  to  his  Denver  works.  At  Dudley  Gill,  with 
amalgamating  works,  was  smelting:  10  tons  daily,  he  said, 
into  silver.  The  Moose  mine,  on  Mount  Lincoln,  was 
working  75  men,  winter  and  summer,  producing  $250,- 
000  per  year.  Dolly  Varden  mine  was  yielding  only 
$125,000  per  annum  (can  do  much  more).  Gill  uses 
5%  salt  (100  pounds  to  one  ton  of  ore).  It  comes  from 
Kansas.  He  amalgamates  all  ore  with  55  ounces  per 
ton  and  sells  to  Hill  or  East  all  above  that  grade.  It 
runs  up  to  330  ouncees  per  ton.  Average  of  all  Moose 
ore  last  year  was  157  ounces  per  ton.  I  looked  over  the 
books  for  the  year,  and  saw  how  it  was  running.  The 
ore  is  very  rich.  Gill  estimates  all  the  Fairplay  district 
is  yielding  now  25  tons  daily.  Hill's  superintendent  at 
Alma  considers  it  nothing  near  that,  but  that  a  railroad 

[98] 


would  increase  it  to  30  tons.  He  has  at  times  shipped 
ore  to  Colorado  Springs  as  low  as  $10  per  ton — 84  miles. 
The  country  across  the  range  on  the  Blue  seemed  to  be 
developing,  but  bases  mostly  now  on  Georgetown — that 
is,  Colonel  Candler  does.  McMurtrie  went  through  the 
Arkansas  Canon  for  us  several  winters  ago,  and  is  con- 
fident of  his  estimates  of  that  part.  The  curves  are  not 
severe.  The  rest  of  the  lines  I  went  over  during  this 
trip,  very  carefully  with  him,  estimating  by  short  sec- 
tions of  classified  work,  and  we  make  no  mistake  in 
trusting  to  them.  At  the  same  time  it  may  be  well  to 
allow  a  small  margin — equipment,  that  will  be  required. 
The  work  could  be  finished  and  rails  laid  in  six  months — 
winter  about  as  readily  as  summer.  Ties  will  be  quite 
cheap. 

Under  date  of  March  23,  1878,  General  D.  C.  Dodge, 
who  later  became  General  Manager  of  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Railway,  wrote  to  General  Palmer  from 
Denver  as  follows: 

"In  conversation  with  E.  Harrison,  last  evening,  he 
told  me  they  had  purchased  the  Gallagher  mine,  near 
Leadville,  and  that  they  would  ship  25  tons  of  ore  per 
day  by  the  1st  of  May.  Harrison  goes  East  via  Atchison, 
Topeka  &  Santa  Fe,  on  invitation  of  Mr.  Strong.  They 
are  determined  to  get  his  shipments  of  ore  if  possible. 
Mr.  Strong  is  getting  all  the  information  he  can  with 
regard  to  that  section,  and  I  believe  intends  to  make  a 
move  in  that,  direction.  Harrison  says  there  would 
certainly  be  75  tons  of  ore  shipped  every  day,  if  a  rail- 
road was  completed  from  Canon  to  Leadville.  He  will 
enter  into  a  contract  to  ship  50  tons  per  day  the  first 
year,  at  a  rate  not  exceeding  $10  per  ton  ore,  Leadville 
to  Canon  (110  miles),  and  30  tons  coke  back  at  same 
rate.  His  business  alone  would  almost  pay  to  build  the 
road." 


On  April  15,  1878,  Gen.  Dodge  wrote  to  Gen. 
Palmer  as  follows : 

"Mr.  Collins,  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  Harri- 
son Reduction  Works,  just  left  my  office.  He  says  they 
are  going  to  increase  their  shipments  of  ore  and  bullion 
to  50  tons  per  day,  as  soon  as  they  can  get  the  wagon 
transportation,  and,  if  they  cannot  get  it  here,  they  will 
send  it  from  the  East.  He  says  they  could  ship  100 
tons  a  day  if  the  transportation  could  be  had." 

R.  F.  Weitbrec,  Treasurer  of  the  Denver  &  Rio 
Grande,  on  March  28,  1878,  wrote  to  Gen.  Palmer  as 
follows : 

"Mr.  Streeter  told  me  last  night  that  the  Harrison 
Reduction  Works  were  anxious  to  make  a  contract  for 
moving  from  Leadville  to  Colorado  Springs,  this  season, 
of  ore  and  bullion  daily,  100,000  pounds.  As  whatever 
they  ship  out  has  always  served  as  a  basis  for  up- 
freights,  the  up-freights  would  probably  be  increased 
proportionately,  say  as  in  the  past,  60%  of  down 
freights,  60,000  pounds,  total  160,000  lbs=80  tons. 
This,  for  one  concern  alone,  being  at  the  rate  of  24,000 
tons  per  annum.  Streeter  said  he  thought  it  would  be 
impossible  to  move  it.  It  is  purely  a  question  of  trans- 
portation whether  the  tonnage  would  not  exceed  that 
of  New  Mexico  and  San  Juan  combined." 

Chas.  B.  Lamborn,  Vice-President  C.  C.  Improve- 
ment Co.,  wrote  to  Gen.  Palmer,  April  1,  1878,  as 
follows : 

"The  ore  shipments  this  summer  promise  to  be  much 
larger  than  at  present.  Mr.  Streeter,  freighter,  informs 
me  that  he  has  arranged  to  take  charge  of  the  transpor- 
tation from  Leadville  across  Weston's  Pass  to  South 
Park,  with  mule  teams.  From  the  Park  down  to  Cold 
Springs  bull  teams  are  being  arranged  for.  He  has 
agreed  to  commence  during  this  month,  and  carry  over 
Weston  Pass  50,000  pounds  ore  and  bullion  per  day, 

[100] 


and  to  increase  at  any  time,  on  notice,  to  a  capacity  of 
100,000  pounds  per  day.  Harrison's  people  expect  to 
ship  soon  100,000  pounds  per  day,  and  are  only  anxious 
to  get  enough  transportation.  The  rate  they  expect  to 
pay  is  $18  per  ton  to  Colorado  Springs  and  Canon  City. 
Streeter  says  that,  owing  to  the  large  amount  of  mer- 
chandise going  into  the  mountains  from  this  point,  he  is 
trying  to  arrange  for  a  portion  of  the  ore  to  be  delivered 
at  Canon  City,  and  he  will  want  coke  at  Canon  as  well  as 
here.  It  is  quite  probable  that,  for  the  sake  of  good 
grazing  for  teams,  and  the  number  of  animals  likely  to 
be  on  the  road  this  summer,  a  good  deal  of  ore  will  be 
delivered  at  Canon  City.  From  about  May  1,  Harrison 
will  take  ten  tons  coke  per  day.  The  Omaha  people 
expect  to  ship  about  ten  tons  of  ore  per  day." 

Hugh  Moore  wrote  to  Charles  B.  Lamborn  from 
Leadville,  May  7,  1878: 

"I  have  been  in  this  camp  about  two  weeks,  during 
which  time  I  have  visited  many  of  the  mines,  and 
traveled  over  much  of  the  country  in  this  district.  The 
season  with  us  will  probably  not  be  fully  open  till  1st 
prox.  The  prospects  for  a  busy  one  are  very  flattering 
indeed.  Since  my  arrival  here  many  good  developments 
have  been  made,  as  well  as  numerous  'strikes/  and  from 
all  I  have  been  able  to  learn  I  am  of  the  opinion  that, 
during  the  coming  season,  from  8,000  to  10,000  tons  of 
ore  can  be  worked  or  shipped  at  or  from  this  district 
per  month,  provided  transportation  can  be  obtained  at 
reasonable  figures.  Experienced  men  and  money  are 
much  needed  for  the  proper  development  of  the  mines 
generally,  and  reduction  works  of  large  capacity, 
adapted  for  the  successful  working  of  low  grade — say 
from  20  to  50  ounces  silver  per  ton — ores  could  be  of 
very  great  value  to  mine  owners,  and  conducive  gen- 
erally to  the  prosperity  of  the  camp." 


•  Cioi] 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ALLUREMENT  OF  MINING  BOOMS — FINGERBOARD  TO 
FORTUNE — BIRTH  OF  A  GREAT  NEWSPAPER 

Great  excitement  was  produced  at  Denver,  in  the 
autumn  of  1877,  by  the  reported  discovery  of  rich  car- 
bonate ore  in  Boulder  County,  a  few  hours'  ride  to  the 
westward,  and  there  was  a  mad  rush  to  the  new 
"diggings."  I  easily  became  infected  with  the  fever, 
but  restrained  undue  impetuosity  with  the  reflection  that 
I  should  not  know  what  to  do  or  how  to  do  it  upon 
arrival. 

I  compromised  with  myself  by  joining  Col.  John 
Arkins  in  the  expense  of  sending  a  representative.  That 
is  what  in  mining  parlance  is  termed  "grub-staking." 
For  this  mission  James  M.  Burnell  was  chosen,  he  having 
been  a  native  of  Gilpin  County,  familiar  with  mining, 
and  always  imbued  with  the  miner's  eternal  hope  of 
"striking  it  rich."  Arkins  and  Burnell  were  printers, 
employed  on  the  Denver  Tribune. 

The  alleged  discoveries  did  not  materialize,  the  boom 
collapsed,  and  Burnell  returned  to  the  "case." 

A  few  weeks  later  excitement  was  again  aroused  by 
reports  of  fabulously  rich  silver  ore  discoveries  in  Cali- 
fornia Gulch,  near  the  site  of  the  former  Oro  City. 

Undaunted  by  the  Boulder  fiasco,  Burnell  was  ready 
for  another  expedition,  and  was  promptly  dispatched  to 
the  new  fields. 

Denver  and  California  Gulch  had  long  been  con- 
nected by  a  single  telegraph  wire,  and  Burnell,  after  a 
twenty-four  hours'  investigation,  hung  a  dispatch  on 
the  line  that  fairly  sizzled  with  hope  and  encouragement. 

[102] 


"Greatest  silver  camp  on  earth;  but  better  for  a  news- 
paper than  for  silver." 

Here  was  something  to  conjure  with.  Newspaper 
patronage  in  mining  camps  is  proverbially  generous.  The 
new  one  already  gave  indications  of  permanency.  With- 
out delay  I  wired  Burnell  to  return. 

Within  twenty-four  hours  following  his  arrival  at 
Denver,  "The  Chronicle  Publishing  Co."  was  organized 
— Davis,  Arkins  and  Burnell  the  incorporators.  Arkins 
was  to  edit  the  new  sheet,  Burnell  to  manage  the  me- 
chanical department,  while  I  was  to  be  the  business 
manager.  Arkins  was  dispatched  to  the  new  camp,  now 
dignified  with  the  magic  name  of  "Leadville,"  to  rent 
quarters,  solicit  advertising,  and  otherwise  to  prepare 
the  way  for  the  new  venture,  while  I  was  sent  to  St. 
Louis  to  purchase  an  outfit. 

Our  combined  capital  aggregated  but  $3,000,  a 
beggarly  sum  with  which  to  launch  a  daily  newspaper 
in  a  mining  camp  more  than  ten  thousand  feet  above  sea 
level,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  a  railway,  and 
where  the  cost  of  everything  soared  with  the  altitude. 
But  we  were  undaunted.  With  us  it  was  "Leadville  or 
bust,"  and  into  the  pool  we  cast  our  last  dollar. 

Notwithstanding  previous  experience  in  the  publica- 
tion of  a  newspaper,  it  promised  little  service  to  me  in 
'this  undertaking,  so  totally  different  were  all  the 
conditions,  circumstances  and  environment. 

I  contracted  with  the  St.  Louis  Type  Foundry  Com- 
pany for  a  modest  plant,  to  cost  $5,000,  giving  $1,000 
cash  and  notes  for  deferred  payments.  But  for  the  fact 
that  I  had  been  a  prized  patron  of  the  company  while  at 
St.  Charles,  such  favorable  terms  could  not  have  been 
hoped  for.  I  knew  intuitively  that  every  remaining  dollar 
would  be  required  to  launch  the  enterprise;  hence  I  se- 
lected material  sparingly. 

[103] 


The  plant  purchased,  I  soon  realized  that  my  trials 
had  only  just  fairly  begun.  Arkins  had  been  wiring  me 
to  make  all  possible  haste,  since  we  "were  losing  a  hun- 
dred dollars  a  day,"  and  following  with  the  almost 
paralyzing  statement  that  an  "office  could  not  be  rented 
for  love  or  money,"  adding  that  "we  must  buy  a  lot  and 
build  one."  To  do  that  would  call  for  the  expenditure 
of  more  dollars  than  we  possessed. 

The  next  blow  was  administered  to  me  in  the  St. 
Louis  office  of  the  Santa  Fe  Railway,  where  I  went  to 
arrange  for  the  transportation  of  the  printing  office. 
The  rate  given  me  was  well  nigh  prohibitive.  I  did  not 
at  once  disclose  my  hand,  but  returned  to  my  hotel  to 
cogitate  over  the  situation,  and  frame  up  such  an  appeal 
to  the  agent,  Mr.  S.  P.  Hynds,  as  would  pierce  the  very 
citadel  of  his  sympathetic  nature. 

Next  day,  I  again  called  upon  him,  exhibited  my 
letters  and  papers,  told  him  how  liberal  the  foundry 
people  had  been,  hinted  at  the  value  to  a  railroad  of 
newspaper  friendship,  and  finally  suggested  that,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  printing  plant,  I  had  a  "jag"  of  household 
goods  at  St.  Charles  that  I  desired  to  ship  with  it. . 

The  last  suggestion,  advanced  with  excessive  ti- 
midity, proved  a  key  to  a  solution  of  the  problem.  But 
for  that  Mr.  Hynds  could  not  have  made  me  a  rate.  But 
for  that  I  might  not  have  had  the  courage  to  ship  that 
plunder  to  the  mountains  at  all.  But  for  that  the  Lead- 
ville  Chronicle  might  never  have  been  born. 

Tariffs,  he  reminded  me,  were  inviolable,  but — 
there  was  a  rate  on  "emigrant  household  goods." 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  restrained  my 
impulse  to  fall  upon  his  neck  and  weep  tears  of  joy.  I 
think  I  did  suggest  to  him  that  he  was  deserving  of  a 
blessed  immortality,  and  let  it  go  at  that. 

The  outcome  was  that  Mr.  Hynds  got  permission  of 

[104] 


KENNETH    LORD    FAHNESTOCK  WM.    K.    BURCHINELL 

Mining   Promoter   and  Ex-Sheriff  Arapahoe  and 

Superintendent  Lake    Counties 

CHARLES     L.     HALL 
Pioneer    Mine    Promoter 

and   Operator 

DAVID   G.    MILLER  HARRY    S.    PHILLIPS 

Prominent    Mining   Engineer  Postal.   Bank  and  Club   Man 


the  Wabash  Railroad  to  back  the  car  containing  the 
printing  material  up  to  St.  Charles,  where  my  little  snag 
of  household  effects  was  added,  the  car  sealed  and  billed 
through  to  Colorado  Springs  as  "emigrant  household 
goods,"  the  charges  scarcely  more  than  equalling  tariff 
on  a  single  printing  press ! 


[105] 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SNOWED  IN  ON  THE  KANSAS  PLAINS — DISCOMFITURE 
OF  A  RAILWAY  AGENT 

Returning  to  Denver,  I  awaited,  with  ill-concealed 
impatience,  the  slow  movement  of  that  precious  car 
westward.  During  my  absence  announcement  had  been 
made  through  the  Denver  press  of  our  contemplated 
enterprise  at  Leadville,  a  most  unfortunate,  though  well 
enough  intended  service,  for  the  reason  that  it  gave  hint 
to  the  owners  of  two  weekly  papers  at  Alma  and  Fair- 
play,  in  an  adjoining  county,  of  the  great  promise  the 
new  camp  held  out  for  a  daily  publication;  and,  before 
we  succeeded  in  getting  our  material  into  Leadville,  two 
daily  papers  were  being  published  where  we  had  count- 
ed upon  being  the  pioneers.  Both,  however,  chose  the 
morning  field,  an  apparently  inconsequental  circum- 
stance at  the  time,  but  one  which  contributed  to  their 
downfall  within  sixty  days  after  the  Chronicle  was 
launched. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Santa  Fe 
Railroad,  the  train  bringing  our  plunder  was  snowed  in 
on  the  plains  of  Kansas,  occasioning  a  delay  of  three 
weeks. 

Burnell  had  been  left  to  earn  what  he  might,  but 
Arkins  and  I  were  living  on  our  capital,  and  the  delay 
was  almost  maddening. 

Another  grave  complication  had  in  the  meantime 
arisen.  The  struggle  between  the  rival  railroads  for 
possession  of  the  Grand  Canon  was  at  its  height,  and  the 
officials  of  both  were  at  daggers'  points  in  their  relations 
with  each  other.  It  was  necessary  to  break  bulk  at  Pu- 

[106] 


U.   S.   Signal   Station,   Summit  of  Pike's   Peak 
Gateway  to  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  base  of  Pike's  Peak 

City   of    Manitou,    Early   Mecca  of   the   Indians   to   the   Curative   Waters   of 

the   Springs 


eblo,  and  transfer  freight  destined  for  the  north  from 
standard  to  narrow-gauge  cars.  My  material  called  for 
two  cars  of  the  "Baby  Road,"  and  I  feared  that  when  the 
erroneous  classification  was  discovered  there  would  be 
an  explosion,  a  reclassification,  and  demand  for  full 
tariff. 

I  was  at  my  wit's  end  to  discover  some  method  of 
meeting  such  a  contingency.  Finally  I  received  intelli- 
gence that  the  stuff  had  been  transferred,  and  that  the 
train  hauling  it  would  arrive  at  Colorado  Springs  the 
following  night. 

Dropping  down  there  early  in  the  morning,  I  en- 
gaged True  &  Sutton,  a  freight-hauling  firm,  to  trans- 
port the  plunder  to  Leadville.  I  dared  not  sleep,  and  on 
one  of  the  coldest  December  nights  in  1878  I  walked  the 
streets  of  Colorado  Springs  until  sunrise.  My  plans 
were  all  laid,  and  they  worked  out  with  mathematical 
precision. 

Acquainted  with  the  local  agent,  Mr.  Ellison,  I  "laid" 
for  him,  followed  him  to  his  office,  and  asked  for  the 
expense  bills.  These  properly  receipted,  I  safely  tucked 
away.  Then  I  asked  Mr.  Ellison  for  help  in  unloading, 
pleading  a  desire  to  get  the  stuff  well  out  of  town  before 
nightfall. 

The  work  had  not  proceeded  very  far  when  one  of 
the  railroad  roustabouts  reported  that  the  shipment  did 
not  consist  of  "household  goods."  This  brought  Mr. 
Ellison  down  the  platform  in  high  dudgeon. 

"Davis,"  shouted  he,  "by  what  sort  of  d-d  hocus 
pocus  did  you  get  that  iron  foundry  billed  through  here 
as  emigrant  household  goods  ?" 

Casting  an  eye  upon  the  remains  of  a  marble-top 
table  upon  which  a  press  cylinder  weighing  half  a  ton 
had  been  deposited,  I  replied :  "Aren't  these  household 
goods,  Mr.  Ellison?" 

[107] 


"Not  by  a  damned  sight,"  he  retorted,  "nor  would 
they  be  if  you  had  not  the  expense  bills  in  your  pocket." 

There  was  no  help  for  Ellison. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  falling  behind  Pike's  Peak  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  seven  "prairie  schooners"  con- 
taining my  plunder  pull  out  of  the  Springs,  pointed  to- 
ward the  Ute  Pass. 


[108] 


THE    CLOUD    CITY    IX    THE    EARLY    DAY 

AN   IMPRESSIONIST  VIEW   IN   THE   SPRING  OF   '78 

CONTINENTAL   RANGE,    LOOKING   WEST 

THE    MODERN    CITY 

A    CITY    IN    THE    MAKING 

Harrison  Avenue  in  1879,   Showing  Log  Cabin   in  Center  of  Street 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AN  IMPRESSIONIST'S  VIEW  OF  THE  WIERDEST  CITY  ON 
THE  FACE  OF  THE  GLOBE 

There  has  been  but  one  Leadville.  Never  will  there 
be  another, 

A  city  on  a  mountain  throne, 
With  vaster  wealth  than  ever  shone 
In  India's  lap — peerless,  alone. 

From  the  cold  womb  of  certainty, 
Born  in  a  day,  an  hour,  we  see 
The  marvel  of  a  century. 

Once  the  wildest  and  most  tempestuous  municipality 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  it  since  has  settled  down  into 
a  quiet  and  decorous  place,  where  life  and  property  are 
as  secure  as  in  any  American  city.  Crude  and  incongru- 
ous elements  here,  in  the  course  of  three  decades,  have 
developed  into  a  fair  civilization.  Order  has  come  out 
of  chaos,  and  a  quiet,  peaceful  life  has  succeeded  the 
hilarious  roundelay  of  the  "days  of  79." 

High  on  a  mountain  bosom  born, 
Bride  of  the  snow,  whose  childhood's  morn, 
When  years  had  scanned  thy  waning  prime, 
Will  seem  as  story  of  mystic  time. 

When  Islam  prated  of  Genei's  might, 
And  fortunes  garnered  within  a  night, 
Not  old  Damascus,  by  ancient  stream, 
Not  Golden  Ophir,  present  in  her  dreams, 

[109] 


Compared  with  thee,  whose  youth  doth  own 
And  gather  all  that  Science  yet  has  sown. 
Deep  lunged  and  strong,  thy  children  rend 
Thy  mountains'  breasts,  and  from  their  trend 

Of  rich  arteries  wrung  such  hidden  store 
Of  marvelous  wealth  that  nevermore 
Shall  Croesus'  hoard  or  Inca's  gold 
Make  wonder  when  thy  story's  told. 

Bride  of  the  snow!  whose  suburbs  teem 
With  silvery  rock  and  golden  stream ; 
I  greet  thy  hills,  thy  pine  clad  domes, 
Thy  children's  love,  thy  children's  homes ! 
Though  falsely  charged  with  guilty  fame, 
Sweet  Charity  redeems  thy  name. 

The  site  of  Leadville  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 
It  lies  in  an  elevated  basin,  between  the  main  range  of 
the  Rocky  mountains  and  a  parallel  spur,  known  as  the 
Mosquito  range,  and  between  them,  midway  in  a  broad 
valley,  courses  the  Arkansas  River,  its  source  but  twelve 
miles  distant.  At  right  angles  with  the  last  named  range 
California  gulch  extends  westward  to  the  river.  Midway 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  gulch  Oro  City  arose  and  fell,  the 
early  settlement  having  been  made  there  in  close  prox- 
imity to  the  placer  workings,  and  without  thought  of 
future  needs  for  expansion. 

Early  in  the  history  of  Leadville,  and  before  it  had 
been  dignified  with  a  name,  the  St.  Louis  Smelting  and 
Refining  Company  amended  an  application  for  a  pend- 
ing placer  claim,  higher  up  the  gulch,  surveying  a 
narrow  strip  along  the  water  line  to  a  point  sufficiently 
wide  and  level  to  accommodate  a  good-sized  city.  This 
was  platted,  and  the  meager  little  subdivision  sold  to  the 
pioneers,  at  excessive  figures,  as  the  town  began  to 
expand. 

[110] 


This  obvious  perversion  of  the  intent  of  the  federal 
mining  laws,  secured  by  means  of  untruthful  declara- 
tions regarding  "mineral  in  place/'  was,  nevertheless, 
subsequently  sustained  by  the  Supreme  Court,  and  it 
enabled  the  owners  of  the  patent  to  hold  up  lot-buyers 
from  the  very  inception  of  the  town. 

The  elevation  of  the  plateau  upon  which  the  city  was 
built  ranged  between  ten  and  twelve  thousand  feet  above 
sea  level.  Back  to  the  eastward,  and  paralleling  the 
Mosquito  range,  extended  four  mountain  spurs,  known 
as  Carbonate,  Iron  and  Breece  Hills  and  Ball  Mountain, 
the  main  treasure  chest  of  what  came  to  be  officially 
known  as  "The  Leadville  Mining  District,"  and  reach- 
ing an  altitude  of  nearly  14,000  feet. 

The  resident  population  of  Leadville  in  January, 
1879,  was  estimated  at  1200,  but  within  six  months  had 
increased  to  60,000. 

The  soil  upon  which  it  is  built  is  almost  as  barren  as 
the  lava  beds  of  Arizona.  Stunted  pines,  with  an  oc- 
casional scrub  oak,  alone  varied  the  unattractive  land- 
scape. Untold  wealth  lay  buried  below  the  surface — 
above  it  naught  was  found  to  sustain  life.  Only  stout 
hearts  could  have  conquered  the  natural  obstacles  to 
city-building  in  such  an  isolated  place,  where  man's 
every  requirement  had  to  be  hauled  in  wagons  a  distance 
of  three  hundred  miles  over  mountain  roads,  crossing 
successive  ranges  nearly  two  miles  above  the  sea,  and 
frequently  with  twelve  to  fifteen  per  cent,  grades.  But 
it  was  accomplished,  despite  the  stern  protest  of  Nature 
against  the  wierd  invasion. 


[mi 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CLIMBING  INTO  THE  CLOUDS — LOST  IN  A  BLINDING 
SNOW  STORM  AT  HIGH  NOON 

I  confess  to  a  feeling  of  disappointment  over  my 
first  sight  of  Leadville,  in  the  early  part  of  January, 
1879.  It  came  after  a  more  than  ordinarily  tedious 
forty  hours'  journey  from  Denver,  on  the  top  of  a 
Concord  coach  most  of  the  way,  feet  hanging  over  the 
boot,  the  mercury  far  below  zero,  and  the  frost-laden 
wind  blowing  such  a  gale  that  it  was  difficult  to  keep  a 
blanket  over  Tone's  knees. 

The  route  traversed,  the  great  South  Park,  is  a  wide 
depression  in  the  mountain^,  sixty  miles  in  length,  eight 
thousand  feet  elevation,  but  as  level  as  a  floor. 

On  the  first  day  out,  and  at  high  noon,  a  terrific  snow 
storm  was  encountered.  The  heavy  moisture-laden 
clouds  came  down  to  the  very  earth,  completely  envelop- 
ing coach  and  passengers,  and  soon  it  was  realized  that 
the  driver  was  lost.  He  stoutly  denied  the  imputation, 
jocularly  retorting  that  it  was  the  wigwam  that  was 
lost,  but  finally  conceded  the  fact,  and  appealed  to  the 
eighteen  men  in  the  coach,  and  on  its  hurricane  deck,  to 
help  him  out. 

By  ranging  ourselves  in  a  line  and  grasping  each 
others'  hands,  we  formed  a  human  whip-lash,  and  thus 
disposed,  we  circled  round  about  the  coach  in  all  di- 
rections in  the  hope,  about  the  only  one  left  us,  of  thus 
locating  the  telegraph  poles  stretched  along  the  road. 
This  device  finally  proved  effective,  and  soon  we  were 
again  pointed  in  the  right  direction. 

[112] 


THOS    F.    WALSH 

Pioneer  Proprietor  of  the 

Grand  Hotel.  Leadville 


HOWARD    CHAPIN 
Formerly  Proprietor  Claren- 
don Hotel.  Leadville 

CALVIN    HENRY    MORSE 
Proprietor  Brown  Palace 

Hotel,    Denver 

W.     H.    BUSH  C.    W.     KITCHEN 

Formerly    Manager  Formerly   Proprietor   Hotel 

Clarendon    Hotel.    Leadville  Kitchen,    Leadville 


The  episode,  singular  as  it  was,  yet  lacked  the  thrill, 
later  experienced,  when  the  lumbering  coach,  rolling  like 
a  crippled  vessel  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  lurching  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  bumping  over  boulders  and  into 
ruts  and  quagmires,  plunged  and  swayed  down  the  wind- 
ing, tortuous  road,  from  the  summit  of  Mosquito 
mountain,  13,000  feet  above  the  sea,  to  the  level  of 
Leadville,  and  in  sight  of  its  scattered  blinking  lights. 

At  11  o'clock  the  coach  rounded  into  Chestnut 
street,  and  brought  up  in  front  of  the  Grand  hotel,  the 
pioneer  hostlery  of  the  Cloud  City,  presided  over  by  a 
person  whose  name  subsequently  became  widely  known 
to  the  people  of  two  continents — Tom  Walsh,  one  time 
owner  of  the  Camp  Bird  mine,  a  multi-millionaire,  dis- 
tinguished as  the  mining  partner  of  King  Leopold  of 
Belgium,  and  lavish  entertainer  of  official  Washington. 

How  gladly  I  record  the  fact  that,  notwithstanding 
his  financial,  political  and  social  triumphs,  in  the  capital 
of  the  nation  and  elsewhere  in  his  world  wanderings  in 
state,  he  remained  to  the  last  that  same  large-hearted, 
broad-minded,  kind,  sympathetic,  genial,  bluff  Tom 
Walsh,  who  welcomed  me  to  the  shelter  of  his  hospitable 
boarding  house  in  Leadville,  on  that  cruelly  bitter  night 
in  the  long  ago! 


[113] 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

FIRST  NIGHT  AMIDST  SCENES  NEVER  BEFORE 
WITNESSED  IN  A  CIVILIZED  COUNTRY 

Disappointment  over  my  first  glimpse  of  Leadville's 
single  street  was  short-lived.  After  a  midnight  meal, 
partaken  of  with  unconcealed  gusto,  and  assignment  to 
a  ten-by-ten  chamber,  the  bed  of  which  I  must  share 
with  another,  and  a  stranger  at  that,  I  set  out  for  an 
inspection  of  the  city. 

The  scene  unfolded  was  unlike  anything  I  ever  be- 
fore had  seen  or  conjured  in  my  imagination.  The  main 
thoroughfare  was  pretty  closely  and  compactly  lined 
with  houses  on  either  side,  for  a  distance  of  two  miles, 
following  the  contour  of  the  gulch,  all  of  log  or  rough- 
hewn  slab  construction,  only  a  few  of  them  two  stories 
in  height.  Every  other  door  seemed  to  open  upon  a 
saloon,  dance  hall  or  gambling  den.  There  were  no 
street  lights,  but  the  thousands  of  coal  oil  lamps  indoors 
cast  fitful  flashes  of  baneful  light  across  the  way. 

The  board  walks  on  either  side  were  filled  to  the 
center  with  a  constantly  moving  mass  of  humanity,  from 
every  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  from  every  walk  in  life. 
The  stalwart  teamster  jostled  the  banker  from  Chicago ; 
the  deep-lunged  miner,  fresh  from  underground  work- 
ings, divided  the  walk  with  debonair  salesmen  from 
Boston;  the  gambler  and  bunco-steerer  walked  arm-in- 
arm with  his  freshest  victim  picked  up  in  the  hotel  lobby. 
Apparently,  every  nationality  was  represented  in  that 
throng  of  fortune-seekers,  their  garb,  and  carriage,  and 
address,  aiding  in  the  classification. 

At  that  hour,  long  past  midnight,  few  could  have  had 

[114] 


any  mission  other  than  sight-seeing,  hence  the  mass  was 
constantly  being  augmented  or  diminished  by  the  crowds 
pouring  in  and  out  of  the  scores  of  resorts  with  which 
the  thoroughfare  was  lined. 

Had  one  the  least  cause  for  haste,  he  was  compelled 
to  seek  the  roadway,  not  so  densely  thronged  with  the 
curious,  excited,  impetuous  sight-seers. 

Belated  Concord  stages,  hauled  by  six-horse  teams, 
huge  freight  vans,  lumbering  prairie  schooners,  and  all 
manner  of  wheeled  vehicles,  were  toiling  up  and  down 
the  street,  separated  from  the  board  walk  by  parallel 
lines  of  snow,  piled  in  the  gutter  to  a  height  of  three  or 
four  feet. 

The  buzz  of  conversation,  the  resounding  snap  of 
drivers'  whips,  the  crunching  of  steel-shod  wheels  in  the 
icy  thoroughfare,  and  the  frequent  profane  shouts  to 
weary  horses  and  mules,  that  mingled  with  the  question- 
able musical  sounds  from  the  orchestras  within,  filled  the 
air  with  a  compound  of  sounds  scarcely  soothing  in  its 
effects  upon  unaccustomed  ears. 

Taking  in  the  spectacle,  I  joined  the  throng,  passing 
from  door  to  door  and  witnessing  scenes  that  almost 
beggar  description.  Chief  among  the  places  visited  was 
Pap  Wyman's  combination  concert  and  dance  hall,  with 
every  game  of  chance  known  to  the  fraternity  in  full 
blast — faro,  keno,  roulette,  stud  poker,  pinochle,  and 
what  not.  On  the  face  of  a  monster  clock,  behind  a  bar 
scintillating  with  a  wealth  of  crystal,  was  painted  the 
significant  invitation  to  guests,  "Please  Do  Not  Swear," 
while  upon  a  slanting  shelf  on  the  counter,  facing  the 
motley  throng,  was  a  large  Bible,  whose  well-thumbed 
leaves  gave  strong  indication  that  it  had  been  frequent- 
ly consulted.  An  orchestra  of  many  pieces  was  grinding 
out  popular  music  for  the  dancing  that  never  lagged, 
and  which  kept  up  until  the  dawn  of  day  drove  the  weary 

[mi 


participants  to  wretched  sleeping  quarters,  the  heavens 
only  knew  where. 

Here,  perhaps,  were  a  score  of  girls  and  women  of 
the  underworld,  of  varying  ages  and  types  of  attractive- 
ness, attired  in  more  or  less  picturesque  and  fantastic 
garb,  some  wearing  little  surplus  apparel  of  any  des- 
cription, dancing  with  bearded  bull-whackers,  uncouth 
delvers  in  the  mines,  with  soil-besmeared  attire  to  mark 
their  vocation;  with  the  dapper  clerk,  out  for  a  night's 
lark — with  anybody  and  everybody  disposed  to  clasp 
their  soiled  waists,  whirl  them  through  the  mazes  of  a 
two-step  or  a  polka,  and  then  accompany  them  to  the 
bar,  the  only  compensation  exacted  by  the  house,  but 
quite  ample,  since  each  number  consumed  but  a  few 
moments  of  time,  and  the  drink  at  the  close  was  as  in- 
evitable as  fate. 

The  floor  manager,  yclept  "the  herder/'  with  a 
diamond  on  his  soiled  shirt  jront  as  large  as  a  two-bit 
piece,  kept  the  figures  moving,  and  distributed  to  the 
girls  the  pasteboard  checks  entitling  them  to  a  commis- 
sion upon  the  liquor  consumed  by  self  and  partner  at 
the  end  of  each  number. 

Elsewhere  in  the  immense  hall  were  seen  groups  of 
men  from  every  walk  of  life  gathered  about  a  faro 
table,  with  stacks  of  white,  red  and  blue  chips  piled  be- 
fore them,  eyes  riveted  upon  the  dealer,  each  watching 
the  successive  turn  of  the  cards  with  an  earnestness  and 
intensity  that  indicated  all  too  well  their  alternating 
hopes  and  fears. 

Other  groups,  perhaps  not  so  intensely  absorbed,  sat 
around  a  roulette  table,  or  lounged  upon  the  rim  of  the 
crowd  of  players,  placing  their  coin  on  the  red  or  the 
black  or  the  numbered  squares,  raking  in  the  proceeds  of 
the  bet,  or  seeing  it  ruthlessly  "swiped"  by  the  repre- 
sentative of  "the  house,"  this  happening  much  oftener. 

[116] 


Other  and  smaller  crowds  were  gathered  about  little 
tables,  playing  stud  poker  or  some  other  popular  game 
of  chance ;  while  to  one  side  a  noisy  crowd  indulged  the 
more  healthful,  if  less  seductive  game  of  ten  pins,  the 
roar  of  the  huge  balls,  as  they  flew  down  the  course, 
drowning  anon  the  clatter  of  ivory  chips  and  the  din  of 
the  orchestra.  Billiards  and  pool,  and  the  throwing  of 
dice,  filled  a  niche  here  and  a  nook  there,  each  adding 
interest  and  picturesqueness  to  the  wierd  and  near-en- 
chanting spectacle. 

Across  the  street  a  vaudeville  theatre  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  night's  programme  at  3  A.M.,  and  there  I 
lingered  for  another  hour,  fascinated  at  what  was  being 
unfolded.  The  programme  announced  that  there  were 
forty  "ladies"  in  the  cast,  and  I  discovered  that  this  em- 
braced some  of  the  best-known  and  most  popular  artists, 
male  and  female,  in  the  country.  An  orchestra,  of 
proportions  unusual,  was  rendering  music  of  really  high 
order,  and  if  there  were  any  weary  eyelids  in  the  vast 
audience  that  thronged  parquette  or  dress  circle,  the 
fact  was  not  obvious. 

In  a  vast  hall  adjoining  the  theatre,  in  the  same 
building,  another  gambling  hell  was  disclosed,  replica  of 
Pap  Wyman's,  minus  Bible  and  clock,  but  with  other 
features  scarcely  less  unique,  including  what  I  took  to 
be  a  No.  2  Hall's  safe,  but  which,  for  my  special  delec- 
tation, was  quietly  folded  up  by  the  manager  and  tucked 
away  in  his  overcoat  pocket — its  entire  construction 
being  of  cork. 

I  was  told  that  the  management  of  this  theatre  paid 
$1,750  a  month  rental  for  the  building,  exclusive  of  the 
gambling  privileges.  And  it  lacked  a  good  deal  of 
having  a  monopoly  in  furnishing  amusement  for  the 
multitude.  The  procenium  boxes,  six  in  number,  were 
filled  with  "classy"  customers  from  the  higher  walks  of 

[117] 


life,  the  mine-owners,  managers  and  superintendents, 
prosperous  chemists  and  assayers,  bankers,  merchants, 
traders,  contractors,  well-known  politicians  and  office- 
holders, the  major  portion  many  thousand  to  the  good  in 
their  mining  operations,  with  prospects  of  adding  un- 
measured wealth  to  their  store. 

Far  removed  from  home  and  friends,  the  bars  down 
and  all  restraint  removed,  these  men  gave  themselves  up 
completely  to  the  wierd  fascinations  of  the  place,  the 
scenes  and  the  hour.  Fortunes  made  in  a  day  were 
squandered  in  a  night,  and  accent  was  given  to  the 
couplet : 

"Its  day  all  day  in  the  day-time, 
And  no  night  in  Leadville." 

On  that  first  night  I  f  equently  saw  golden  eagles  cast 
upon  the  stage  at  the  feet  of  some  favorite  actor  or 
actress,  at  the  completion  of  a  catchy  skit,  while  at  other 
times  "Bland  dollars"  fairly  rained  upon  the  heads  of  the 
more  popular  members  of  the  cast. 

There  was  a  constant  pop  of  champagne  corks  all 
the  night  through  in  the  procenium  boxes,  the  opulent 
revelers  scorning  plebeian  beer.  Between  acts  they,  in 
turn,  entertained  the  more  attractive  actresses  and  the 
painted  darlings  of  the  chorus. 

Unwilling  to  return  to  the  hotel  until  assured  that 
the  party  booked  to  sleep  with  me  had  arisen,  I  was 
willingly  led  by  my  guide  to  places  viler  than  any  yet 
visited,  to  witness  scenes  of  degredation  I  previously 
supposed  had  no  existence  beyond  the  confines  of  Can- 
ton, Pekin  or  Shanghai. 

Some  of  these  dens  occupied  sumptuous  quarters, 
richly  furnished  and  presided  over  by  persons  with  some 
pretentions  to  gentility,  but  most  of  them  were  in  rook- 

[118] 


cries,  reeking  with  filth,  and  emitting  odors  that  smelled 
to  heaven. 

I  was  denied  the  consolation  that  my  own  country- 
men could  not  fall  into  such  depths  of  depravity,  for  I 
was  told  that  up  to  that  hour  no  Chinaman  had  ever 
dared  to  set  foot  in  Leadville. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  lighting  the  snow-capped  mount- 
ain tops  of  the  main  range,  I  found  myself  back  at  the 
Grand  hotel,  my  sleeping  partner  up  and  gone,  and  a 
warm  though  not  altogether  wholesome  bed  awaiting 
me.  Without  wasting  much  time  in  re-arranging  the 
coverings,  I  was  in  and  off  to  Dreamland. 


[119] 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

WIERD  SIGHTS  BY  DAYLIGHT — A  BANK  OUTSIDE  THE 
COUNTER — WONDERFUL  POSTOFFICE 

I  had  seen  the  greater  portion  of  the  city  proper  in 
the  few  hours  following  arrival.  The  next  afternoon 
sufficed  to  complete  my  tour  of  inspection.  Aside  from 
Chestnut  Street,  there  were  but  a  few  slab  shanties 
scattered  here  and  there  over  the  broad  plateau  selected 
for  the  prospective  mining  metropolis. 

There  were  at  this  time  no  public  utilities  whatever. 
Water  for  domestic  purposes  was  being  pumped  and 
sold  by  the  barrel.  Coal  oil  was  the  sole  dependence  for 
lighting.  Sewers,  gas  and  means  of  local  transportation 
were  to  be  provided. 

A  bank  had  just  been  opened  in  Tabor's  store, 
brought  down  from  Oro  City,  but  it  had  no  fixtures  as 
yet,  and  the  cash  was  kept  in  an  ordinary  iron  safe  that 
sat  outside  the  counter,  and  the  cashier  divided  his  time 
between  the  dry  goods  and  grocery  divisions,  the  re- 
ceipt of  deposits  and  the  writing  of  exchange. 

The  postoffice  was  a  feature  worthy  of  brief  des- 
cription. It  yet  was  a  fourth-class  office,  the  salary  of 
Postmaster  based  upon  the  sale  of  stamps.  No  allowance 
was  made  by  the  department  for  rent,  light,  fuel  or 
assistance,  but  Postmaster  Tabor*,  already  on  the 

*"Tabor"  is  a  name  to  conjure  with  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region. 
Of  all  the  human  documents  he  may  be  said  to  be  the  "father  of 
Leadville."  His  son,  N.  Maxey  Tabor,  has  helped  me  to  the  sub- 
joined brief  sketch  of  the  movements  of  his  parents  antedating  the 
Leadville  era: 

"Along  about  1855  my  father  settled  upon  a  farm  in  Riley  County, 
Kansas,  and  during  some  of  the  border  troubles  was  either  in  the 
State  Militia  or  volunteer  companies  in  connection  with  the  Quan- 

[120] 


Lower    Chestnut    Street,    Leadville,    Tabor's    Bank    in    Left    Foreground 
Lower  Chestnut   Street,    Leadville,   Tom   Walsh's   Hotel   in   Right   Foreground 


highway  to  affluence,  provided  the  necessary  funds  to 
handle  the  enormous  incoming  and  outgoing  mails. 
While  yet  his  •  salary  could  be  named  in  hundreds  of 
dollars,  he  provided  a  suitable  housing  for  it,  and  em- 
ployed twenty  clerks.  But  one  mail  each  day  was 
received,  and  that  took  the  force  all  night  to  sort,  ready 
for  delivery  in  the  morning.  Long  before  the  opening 
hour  a  line  of  patrons  formed  in  front  and  extended  far 
down  the  street,  and  so  eager  were  the  people  to  secure 
their  letters  without  delay  that  cash  in  large  sums, 
ranging  from  one  to  five  dollars,  was  paid  for  positions 
at  the  head  of  the  line.  Indeed,  this  practice  early  be- 
came so  common  that  a  few  persons  profited  handsomely 
by  selling  their  places,  returning  to  the  foot,  again  ad- 
vancing, and  selling  again  and  again. 

It  may  be  helpful  to  the  reader  to  know  that  cash 
was  always  abundant  in  Leadville,  and  its  expenditure 
ever  lavish.  Few  came  in  without  ample  funds ;  whereas, 

trell  troubles.  In  the  spring  of  1859,  imbued  by  the  Pike's  Peak  gold 
excitement,  he  gathered  up  all  of  his  effects  and  family,  and  we 
landed  in  Denver  in  June  of  that  year.  Shortly  thereafterwards, 
leaving  my  mother  and  myself  at  Golden,  he  followed  the  crowd  up 
Clear  Creek  to  Gregory  Gulch,  and  engaged  to  some  extent  in  mining 
operations  there.  In  the  fall  we  moved  to  Colorado  City  and  spent 
*the  winter  there.  In  the  early  spring  of  1860  we  went  on  up  Ute  Pass 
and  across  South  Park  and  down  Trout  Creek,  to  where  Buena  Vista 
is  now  located,  then  on  up  the  Arkansas  River  to  the  mouth  of  Cash 
Creek,  where  the  town  of  Granite  is  now  located,  and  while  en- 
gaged in  prospecting  there  a  party  passed,  going  west,  that  a  short 
time  later  were  the  discovering  party  of  California  Gulch,  and  it  was 
not  long  until  news  reached  our  party  of  this  discovery,  when  the 
party  moved  on,  and  sometime  in  the  month  of  May,  1860,  arrived 
in  California  Gulch,  and  were  the  second  party  to  arrive  there.  During 
that  summer  my  father  engaged  in  mining  operations,  and  that  fall, 
accompanied  by  my  mother  and  myself,  returned  to  New  England 
for  the  winter,  coming  back  the  next  spring  and  continuing  operations 
in  California  Gulch  for  the  summer  of  1861.  That  fall  we  moved  to 
Park  County,  going  over  Weston  Pass,  and  located  in  Buckskin  Gulch, 
where  the  town  of  Buckskin  later  came  into  existence,  engaging  in 
the  mercantile  business,  and  remaining  there  until  the  spring  of  1868, 
when  we  returned  to  California  Gulch,  continuing  in  the  mercantile 
business  until  the  beginning  of  the  Leadville  discoveries."  Mrs.  Au- 
gusta Tabor  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the  first  white  woman 
in  California  Gulch.  The  second  woman  was  Mrs.  Mary  M.  Hall. 
A  population  variously  estimated  at  from  thirty  to  sixty  thousand 
soon  crowded  into  the  narrow  gulch. 

[121] 


the  greater  number  were  realizing  handsome  profits 
from  the  production  and  sale  of  fabulously  rich  silver 
ore,  mines  and  prospects. 

Cost  of  living  was  excessive,  due  to  the  high  freight 
rates,  rents  and  salaries.  Nothing  could  be  bought  for 
less  than  twenty-five  cents,  the  ruling  price  for  a  glass 
of  beer,  a  shave  or  a  shine;  whereas  the  minimum 
charge  for  a  meal  was  one  dollar. 

Several  smelters  and  sampling  works  were  in  oper- 
ation in  the  gulch,  treating  only  the  highest  grade  of 
ore.  Freight  rates  «were  practically  prohibitive,  and  the 
lower  grade  stuff  had  to  await  the  coming  of  the  rail- 
roads, or  the  lessening  of  the  cost  of  home  treatment. 

Three  wagon  transportation  lines  were  in  operation 
over  three  different  routes,  and  five  to  seven  thousand 
men  were  engaged  in  the  business  of  hauling  the  enor- 
mous quantities  of  merchandise,  building  material  and 
machinery  required  for  the  rapidly  augmenting  popula- 
tion, for  the  construction  of  habitations  for  the  sixty 
thousand  yet  to  come,  and  the  vast  tonnage  comprehend- 
ed in  the  requirement  of  mines  and  smelters  in  the  way 
of  boilers,  engines,  hoists,  piping  and  other  accessories. 

Such,  briefly  told,  and  much  interesting  detail 
omitted,  was  the  aspect  Leadville  presented  on  the  first 
day  of  my  pilgrimage. 


[122] 


Fac-Simile   of   the    first    number   of   the    Leadville    Evening   Chronicle   and    its 
Founders.     Sales  of  500  copies  were  anticipated — 7000  sales  were  realized 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

LAUNCHING  OF  THE  MOST  SUCCESSFUL  JOURNAL  IN 
HISTORY — AN  ENORMOUS  SALE 

No  one  perhaps  is  better  qualified  to  record  the 
history  of  journalism  in  Leadville  than  the  writer;  since 
my  direct  connection  with  it  covers  an  uninterrupted 
period  of  seventeen  years,  and  would  have  continued  to 
this  day  and  hour  had  not  its  exactions  resulted  in  a 
complete  physical  breakdown,  forcing  me  to  surrender 
the  substantial  business  built  up,  under  such  nerve-rack- 
ing conditions,  to  others,  and  to  seek  surcease  from  pain 
and  a  modicum  of  comfort  in  a  lower  altitude,  and 
under  more  friendly  skies. 

Familiar  with  every  phase  of  the  subject,  it  will  be 
a  comparatively  easy  task  to  record  the  events  as  they 
occurred,  with  fidelity  to  the  subject,  with  perfect  can- 
dor, and  unvarying  devotion  to  truthfulness. 

And  yet  there  is  no  other  division  of  the  work  that 
I  approach  with  such  feeling  of  hesitancy  and  caution, 
mainly  because,  as  so  often  happens,  truth  is  stranger 
than  fiction,  and  in  this  instance  I  am  warranted  in  ap- 
prehending that  my  simple  relation  may  by  some  read- 
ers be  set  down  as  a  Munchausen  yarn,  wholly  trans- 
cending the  realm  of  belief. 

Again,  in  recording  the  facts,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
exalt  myself  above  a  multitude  of  co-workers,  and  to  at 
least  appear  to  claim  more  than  was  and  is  my  due.  But 
it  would  not  be  history  were  it  not  true,  and  so  I  shall 
endeavor  to  keep  steadily  to  my  purpose,  which  will  be 
to  give  somewhat  of  novelty  to  that  which  was  old, 
condensation  to  that  which  was  diffuse,  perspicacity  to 

[138] 


that  which  was  obscure,  and  accuracy  to  that  which  was 
recondite.  I  will  try  truthfully  to  relate  what  has  been, 
and  for  all  I  shall  humbly  ask  the  considerate  reader — 

Gently  to  hear,  kindly  to  judge. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  time  and  the  place, 
the  almost  unsolvable  problems  and  inscrutable  perplexi- 
ties involved  in  altitude,  climate,  incongruous  and  shift- 
ing population,  difficulties  and  excessive  cost  of  produc- 
tion, meager  equipment  and  total  lack  of  credit,  the  most 
ordinary  success  in  building  up  a  great  newspaper  prop- 
erty, on  the  very  crest  of  the  continent,  over  10,000  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  might  be  regarded  as  border- 
ing upon  the  miraculous.  But  my  venture  there  proved 
vastly  more  than  that. 

The  fact  is  widely  recognized  that,  relatively,  the 
Leadville  Evening  Chronicle  was  the  most  successful 
journalistic  enterprise  ever  launched  in  America.  This 
was  more  largely  due  to  the  conditions  that  obtained  than 
to  any  superior  intelligence,  skill  or  sagacity  upon  the 
part  of  its  founders.  Indeed  the  lack  of  these  qualities 
only  served  to  place  a  limit  upon  its  success. 

While  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  material,  Col. 
Arkins  had  purchased  a  lot,  25x67,  out  in  the  sage  brush, 
a  thousand  feet  north  of  Chestnut  Street,  and  caused  to 
be  erected  upon  it  a  slab  shanty  20x30. 

The  only  title  to  realty  obtainable  was  a  squatter's 
quit-claim  deed,  conferring  possession  only,  and  for  this 
he  paid  $175.  At  the  same  time,  as  was  the  custom,  he 
entered  into  a  contract  with  the  St.  Louis  Smelting  and 
Refining  Company  to  pay  a  "nominal  price"  to  it  for  the 
lot  when,  by  the  acquisition  of  a  placer  patent,  it  could 
give  a  warranty  deed,  perfecting  title. 

The  demand  for  lumber  was  so  great  that  something 

[124] 


more  than  the  tender  of  the  exorbitant  price  was  neces- 
sary to  secure  it,  and  heavy  bonuses  were  frequently 
exacted.  Lumber  dealers  bought  and  sold  millions  of 
feet  without  a  board  ever  reaching  their  yards. 

Weary  of  the  delay,  Col  Arkins  finally  stationed 
himself  at  Malta,  a  settlement  five  miles  below  town, 
where  he  was  able  to  intercept  supplies  as  they  ap- 
proached. Buying  and  paying  for  the  lumber  was  not 
in  itself  an  assurance  of  securing  it,  however,  since  a 
higher  figure  might  be  offered  and  accepted  before 
reaching  destination ;  hence  Col.  Arkins  shared  the  seat 
with  driver,  with  a  free  hand  to  his  hip  pocket,  to 
provide  against  a  contingency  that  had  happened  to 
others. 

Later,  when  a  few  boards,  surfaced  on  one  side  only, 
were  required  for  drying  shelves  for  printed  matter  in 
the  job  department,  four  hundred  dollars  were  paid  for 
what  at  this  day  could  be  obtained  for  a  single  golden 
eagle. 

Another  interesting  detail  of  construction  related  to 
the  providing  of  a  chimney.  In  securing  brick  for  this 
Col.  Arkins  was  in  the  market  from  October  to  January. 
When  the  expense  bill  was  analyzed,  the  startling  fact 
was  developed  that  the  brick  could  have  been  shipped  in 
by  mail  for  considerably  less  money,  only  that  each  brick 
slightly  exceeded  the  four-pound  limit. 

The  choice  of  a  location  remote  from  the  business 
center  was  due  to  its  relative  cheapness,  and  the  fact  that 
fire  risks  were  unpurchaseable.  Out  of  abundance  of 
precaution,  Col.  Arkins  had  located  on  the  extreme 
northern  boundary,  but  within  six  months  from  the 
completion  of  the  building  it  was  found  to  be  south  of 
the  businesss  center,  so  rapid  had  been  the  city's  ad- 
vancement. 

Although  unlocked   for  at  the  time,   Col.   Arkins' 

[125] 


sagacity  had  prompted  the  leaving  of  a  five-foot  open 
space  to  the  south,  that  the  printers  might  not  be  de- 
prived of  light.  For  ten  feet  of  that  space,  or  an  area 
of  5x10  feet,  one-story  high,  soon  was  rented  for  a  news 
and  tobacco  stand,  the  modest  rental  of  $45  a  month  be- 
ing cheerfully  paid  by  the  lessee,  John  M.  Whitton,  a 
pioneer  newspaper  man  from  Deadwood,  who  enjoyed 
the  distinction  of  being  the  first  man  employed  by  the 
Chronicle  Publishing  Company,  and  placed  in  charge  of 
its  circulation. 

With  the  addition  of  a  number  of  rudely  constructed 
sleeping  bunks  in  the  corners  and  the  loft,  the  little 
20x30  slab  shanty  was  ready  for  the  reception  of  the 
presses  and  other  material  some  days  before  arrival. 

Col.  Arkins  had  made  contracts  for  advertising,  but 
heVe  his  sagacity  had  utterly  failed  him,  for  the  rates 
were  so  out  of  proportion  to  the  cost  of  everything  that 
it  would  have  been  madness  to  attempt  to  fulfill  their 
terms;  hence  arose  the  embarrassing  necessity  of  ap- 
pealing to  the  merchants  for  cancellation  of  the  old,  and 
the  signing  of  new  contracts.  The  cheerfulness  with 
which  this  awkward  appeal  was  complied  with  indicates 
the  fairness  and  broad-mindedness  of  the  early  mercan- 
tile firms. 

Presses  and  other  machinery  in  place,  type  distrib- 
uted and  help  engaged,  every  preparation  was  found 
complete  for  launching  the  little  daily  on  the  afternoon 
of  Thursday,  January,  29,  1879. 

At  the  outset,  power  was  lacking  to  drive  the  ma- 
chinery, and  two  burly  negroes  were  engaged  to  turn 
the  driving  wheel  of  the  cylinder  newspaper  press.  The 
dollar  an  hour  agreed  to  be  paid  to  each  for  this  service 
was  not  considered  excessive. 

But  the  high  cost  of  everything  deemed  essential 
had  well  nigh  depleted  the  company's  treasury,  and  the 

[126] 


evening  before  the  initial  publication  the  three  doubting 
and  distraught  founders  of  the  enterprise  held  a  solemn 
conclave  to  determine  the  weighty  problem  as  to  whether 
they  could  afford  to  buy  a  hand-saw  and  buck,  with 
which  to  work  up  the  office  fuel,  each  having  discovered 
that  an  axe  was  not  adapted  to  the  pulpy  nature  of  the 
only  wood  obtainable. 

Probably  never  before  was  a  daily  newspaper 
launched  without  a  subscription  list  previously  obtained. 
But  the  Chronicle  started  without  a  solitary  subscriber. 
The  people  had  been  disappointed  in  the  performance  of 
pledges  made  by  the  two  morning  papers,  that  had 
slipped  in  and  begun  publication  while  our  plant  was 
snowed  in  on  the  Kansas  plains,  and  were  ready  to  wel- 
come the  product  of  three  men  whom  the  Denver  papers 
had  assured  them  were  "live  wires."  We  felt  well  as- 
sured that  we  should  meet  with  the  success  merited — 
that,  if  we  should  succeed  in  creating  a  real  newspaper, 
it  would  sell. 

But  our  most  ambitious  hopes  and  optimistic  calcu- 
lations as  to  the  patronage  that  would  be  extended  were 
so  far  exceeded  that  realization  came  in  the  nature  of  a 
shock.  We  had  been  entirely  too  modest,  and,  conse- 
quently, suffered  by  our  excessive  conservatism.  I  had 
determined  to  be  satisfied  with  initial  sales  of  500  copies. 
The  capacity  of  the  press  was  1,800  an  hour,  but  at  first 
the  production  did  not  exceed  1,500.  The  machine  was 
started  at  3  o'clock,  and  it  was  not  until  six  hours  later 
that  the  clamoring  crowd  in  front  of  the  office  dispersed, 
their  appetite  sated.  Nine  thousand  papers  had  been 
printed  and  sold  by  newsboys  and  over  the  counter !  This 
exceeded  many  times  the  entire  population  of  the  city  at 
the  time,  and  is  accounted  for  by  scores  of  orders  of 
from  one  to  five  hundred  from  mine  owners  and  mana- 
gers, promoters  and  real  estate  operators. 

[127] 


But  this  phenomenal  reception  was  disconcerting. 
Should  it  be  repeated  for  a  week  or  two,  our  summer's 
supply  of  print  paper  might  be  exhausted  before  fresh 
invoices  could  be  secured.  The  Chronicle  was  a  five- 
column  folio,  not  much  larger  than  a  theatre  program. 
Before  retiring  the  first  night  I  telegraphed  for  ma- 
terial for  enlargement  and  additional  supplies  of  paper. 

Subsequently  the  journal  went  through  all  the 
changes  from  a  five  to  a  six,  seven,  eight  and  nine 
column  folio ;  and  then  to  a  twelve  column  quarto — eight 
pages  and  supplement. 

By  the  first  of  May  the  street  sales  averaged  five 
thousand  a  day,  with  two  thousand  subscribers  served 
by  carrier,  so  rapid  was  the  growth  of  the  city. 

And  before  that  date  the  lights  in  the  offices  of  our 
morning  contemporaries,  the  Eclipse  and  the  Reveille, 
had  forever  gone  out,  leaving  the  Chronicle  master  of 
the  field. 


[128] 


Animated    Street    Scene    in    Leadville,    Winter    of    1878-9 
Sketch  of  the  Early  Leadville,   Before  Honored  with  a  Name 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PHENOMENAL  SUCCESS  OF  THE  CARBONATE  CHRONICLE 
$3,500  FOR  10,000  COPIES 

Emboldened  by  the  phenomenal  reception  accorded 
the  daily,  the  publication  of  a  nine  column  folio,  with  the 
caption:  "Carbonate  Weekly  Chronicle"  was  begun. 
This  met  with  instant  success  at  home  and  before  long 
was  being  mailed  to  nearly  every  State  in  the  Union.  In 
Iowa  alone  it  boasted  of  eight  hundred  subscribers. 

Pen  pictures  of  the  unique  and  wonderful  city  above 
the  clouds  had  proven  wholly  inadequate  to  portray  its 
principal  features,  and  the  strange  and  wierd  scenes 
rapidly  following  one  another  in  the  streets.  The  de- 
mand for  pictures  was  universal,  and  I  made  them  a 
leading  feature  of  the  weekly  publication. 

The  standing  order  of  four  local  newsdealers  called 
for  10,000  copies  of  that  publication,  while*  other  ven- 
ders took  a  smaller  number.  The  price  to  dealers  was 
seven  cents,  to  the  public  ten  cents.  Wagon  loads  went 
out  each  week  to  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  not  a 
few  to  Europe, 

It  was  regularly  kept  on  file  at  the  Paris  office  of  the 
New  York  Herald,  the  Anglo-American  Bank,  and 
similar  public  places  in  the  chief  cities  of  the  continent. 

The  special  editions  sent  out  on  the  first  of  each 
January  met  with  astonishing  sales.  The  first  venture 
in  this  line  was  on  New  Year's  day,  1880.  It  was 
patterned  after  such  publications  as  the  Ladies'  Home 
Journal,  printed  on  fine  calendered  book  paper,  and  pro- 
fusely illustrated  with  half  tones  of  scenes  typical  of 
mining  camps  and  mining  camp  life. 

[129] 


The  home  facilities  for  such  a  publication  were 
wholly  inadequate;  hence,  I  contracted  with  the  New 
York  Graphic,  the  first  illustrated  daily  in  the  country, 
for  the  printing.  When  all  other  details  had  been  ar- 
ranged, I  was  asked  how  many  copies  would  be  required, 
and  when  I  said  sixty  thousand,  the  Graphic  man 
gasped  with  astonishment.  He  declared  that  twenty- 
five  thousand  copies  of  the  holiday  number  of  the 
Graphic  was  all  the  metropolis  of  the  country  would 
consume.  Sixty  thousand  for  a  wild  and  woolly  mining 
camp,  on  the  dome  of  the  continent,  was  to  him  un- 
thinkable; and  I  later  learned  that,  before  signing  the 
contract,  he  inquired  of  my  bank  references,  not  only 
as  to  my  financial  standing  but  as  to  my  sanity  as  well. 

But  I  knew  the  people  and  the  market,  and  my  judg- 
ment was  confirmed  on  New  Year's  day  following  by 
the  sale  of  the  last  number  before  the  sun  went  down 
over  Mount  Massive.  The  retail  price  was  50  cents  a 
copy;  newsdealers'  rate  35  cents.  One  dealer,  Ben 
Gardner,  later  a  prominent  stationer  of  Los  Angeles, 
handed  us  a  check  on  New  Year's  eve  for  $3,500  for 
ten  thousand  copies.  And  this  before  seeing  even  a 
sample  copy. 

I  took  the  precaution  of  insuring  the  sheets,  while  in 
process,  for  $10,000.  Although  the  cost  of  publication 
was  excessive,  I  was  able  to  carry  $7,500  to  the  profit 
side  of  the  ledger  for  that  single  issue. 

Ever  since  1880,  on  each  recurring  New  Year's  day, 
a  special  edition  of  the  Carbonate  Chronicle  still  goes 
out  to  the  world,  telling  the  thrilling  story  of  the  year's 
events,  the  production  of  mines,  and  the  performance  of 
smelters — none  so  elaborate,  perhaps,  as  that  initial 
number,  but  always  bulky,  and  crowded  with  attractive 
features,  pictorial  and  letter-press. 


[130] 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

FIFTY  THOUSAND  TO  THE  GOOD  THE  FIRST  YEAR — VALE 
ARKINS  AND  BURNELL 

The  balance  sheet  at  the  end  of  the  first  twelvemonth 
disclosed  astonishing  totals.  I  had,  within  that  time, 
purchased  and  paid  for  the  interests  of  both  my  partners. 
For  Mr.  Burnett's  interest,  the  Company  (Col.  Arkins 
and  myself)  paid  more  than  the  combined  capital  of  the 
three  at  the  inception  of  the  enterprise,  three  months 
previously,  and  for  Col.  Arkins'  half  interest  I  paid, 
before  the  close  of  the  first  year,  $15,000,  he  having  en- 
joyed several  dividends  in  the  meantime.  I  had  added 
a  story  to  the  Chronicle  building,  augmented  the 
equipment  of  the  plant,  cleared  off  the  debt  to  the  type 
foundry,  and  increased  the  bank  balance  to  $29,000. 

All  this  in  a  building  20x30,  from  which  went  out 
three  editions  of  the  Evening  Chronicle  and  a  monster 
weekly. 

The  job  printing  department  was  so  crowded  with 
orders  that  it  was  necessary  to  run  the  presses  day  and 
night,  nor  did  the  thunder  of  the  clanking  cylinders 
seem  to  disturb  the  slumbers  of  either  Davis,  Arkins, 
Burnell,  or  the  eleven  other  men,  editors  and  printers, 
stowed  away  in  narrow  bunks  against  the  wall  and  above 
the  ceiling,  although  these  latter  did  sometimes  complain 
of  the  snow  sifting  in  upon  their  couches  and  into  their 
faces  at  night. 

Mr.  Burnell  withdrew  from  the  company  at  the  close 
of  the  first  quarter,  attracted  by  the  seeming  greater 
inducement  to  engage  in  active  mining  operations.  I 
parted  with  him  with  extreme  reluctance,  for  sentimen- 

[131] 


tal  as  well  as  business  reasons.  Primarily  it  had  been  his 
enterprise.  He  had  been  the  original  discoverer.  But 
for  his  sagacity  it  never  would  have  been  undertaken. 
He  had  wholly  taken  from  my  shoulders  all  responsi- 
bility for  the  proper  working  of  the  mechanical  depart- 
ment, and  had  been  a  good  counselor  and  loyal  friend. 
Before  long  he  made  a  fortunate  strike  in  a  Red  Cliff 
mine,  parting  with  it  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to 
the  good,  and  later  duplicated  his  experience  in  other 
districts.  A  few  years  later,  unable  longer  to  resist 
the  allurement  of  the  print-shop  and  the  smell  of 
printer's  ink,  he  purchased  a  large  interest  in  the  Rocky 
Mountain  News  at  Denver,  the  ownership  of  which  had 
been  acquired  by  Col.  Arkins,  and  became  its  Business 
Manager.  In  this  capacity  he  at  once  won  distinction, 
soon  increasing  the  value  of  the  property  from  a  few 
thousand  dollars  to  half  a  million,  upon  which  valuation 
he  later  parted  with  his  half  interest. 

Col.  Arkins'  withdrawal  was  involuntary,  his  phy- 
sicians cautioning  him  that  he  could  not  hope  to  survive 
the  rigors  of  climate  and  altitude.  Parting  with  him 
was  not  easy,  since  he  was  one  of  the  most  genial, 
companionable  and  lovable  characters  that  ever  came 
into  my  life.  He  had,  during  our  brief  association, 
performed  more  than  his  part,  borne  more  than  his  share 
of  the  burden,  and  perhaps  contributed  more  than  my- 
self to  the  phenomenal  initial  success  of  the  Chronicle. 
In  the  broader  field  of  Denver,  which  he  soon  after  en- 
tered, he  rapidly  arose  to  distinction  as  a  versatile 
editorial  writer  and  political  commentator. 

Before  dismissing  these  "old  pals"  I  must  revive  a 
story  told  of  the  three,  by  that  incomparable  wit  and 
practical  joker,  the  late  Eugene  Field,  then  editor  of  the 
Denver  Tribune.  The  yarn  had  little  foundation  in  fact 
—just  sufficient  to  hang  a  story  upon  and  Field's  pro- 

[132] 


duction  speedily  went  the  rounds  of  the  press.  As  before 
stated,  the  demand  for  printed  stationery  was  pressing. 
Hundreds  of  business  houses  of  all  sorts  were  being 
established,  and  all  were  impatient  for  their  letter  heads, 
cards,  envelopes  and  invoices.  Such  a  dialogue  as  this, 
then,  was  not  uncommon : 

Customer:  "What  is  your  price  for  a  thousand 
letter  heads?" 

Burnell:    "Fifteen  dollars." 

Customer :    "All  right.    When  can  I  have  them?" 

Burnell:     "Some  time  next  week." 

Customer :  "Can't  wait.  I'll  give  you  twenty  dollars 
if  you  will  get  them  out  this  week." 

If,  as  alleged,  it  became  habitual  with  Burnell  to 
postpone  delivery  until  "some  time  next  week,"  possibly 
he  may  escape  serious  criticism. 

Field's  story  ran  something  after  this  fashion : 

A  gambler  desired  some  numbers,  1  to  0,  printed  in 
big  type  on  card  board,  for  use  in  a  game  of  chance  of 
questionable  sort.  Characteristic  of  that  liberal  class, 
the  gambler  neglected  to  ask  the  price,  and  Burnell 
entered  the  order  on  his  job  register,  fixing  the  charge 
at  $10. 

Davis,  scanning  the  register,  noted  the  entry,  and 
demurred  to  the  price,  declaring  that  we  would  be  jus- 
tified in  holding  up  such  a  disreputable  character  as  the 
one  in  question. 

Burnell  changes  the  charge  price  from  $10  to  $20. 

Enter  Arkins,  who  is  appealed  to  by  Burnell  for 
justification  of  the  charge.  "Sure,"  replies  Arkins,  "He 
is  a  disreputable  whelp,  deserving  of  no  consideration. 
Besides,  he'll  pay  $30  as  quickly  as  $20." 

The  charge  price  is  again  changed. 

Then  Whitton,  the  circulator,  comes  in,  and  Burnell 
inquires  about  the  gambler. 

[183] 


"Know  him?"  replies  Whitton,  "I  should  say  I  do. 
Why,  he's  an  escaped  convict  from  the  Dakota  peniten- 
tiary. If  you  are  doing  work  for  him,  slap  on  the  price. 
He  is  in  an  unlawful  business,  and  will  not  dare  to 
squeal." 

Advised  as  to  the  charge  and  the  successive  raises, 
Whitton  finally  advises  making  it  $50. 

To  this  Burnell  agrees,  providing  Whitton  will  de- 
liver the  goods  and  make  the  collection.  After  satisfying 
himself  that  the  cards  had  been  correctly  printed,  the 
gambler  draws  a  check  for  $50  and  hands  it  to  Whitton 
without  a  word,  but  as  the  latter  turns  to  depart,  he  is 
hailed  by  the  Bad  Man  from  Dakota  with :  "John,  I  was 
a  thief  once  myself,  you  know.  But,  isn't  this  price  a 
little  high?" 


[134] 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FIGHT  FOR  TITLE — DIFFICULTIES  IN  PROCURING 
NEWS — DEADWOOD  DESTROYED 

By  the  1st  of  July  the  country  road  upon  which  the 
Chronicle  office  had  been  erected  developed  into  a  broad 
street,  and  was  pretty  solidly  built  up  on  both  sides  for 
a  distance  of  three  blocks.  This  was  named  Harrison 
Avenue,  in  honor  of  Edwin  Harrison,  President  of  the 
St.  Louis  Smelting  and  Refining  Company,  a  corpora- 
tion that,  by  means  of  resurveys  and  questionable  testi- 
mony before  the  Land  Office  officials,  in  which  I  feel 
well  assured  Mr.  Harrison  took  no  part  and  had  no 
knowledge,  had  acquired  title  to  a  large  portion  of  the 
area  north  of  Chestnut  Street,  over  which  the  city  was 
rapidly  extending. 

The  contract  made  with  it  by  Col.  Arkins,  before  my 
arrival,  provided  that  the  Chronicle  Publishing  Com- 
pany should  have  a  deed  for  its  lot  for  a  "nominal" 
consideration. 

Not  satisfied  with  the  ambiguous  clause,  I  sought  to 
have  the  Smelting  Company  define  its  meaning  in 
figures,  before  the  patent  was  issued  by  the  government. 
Twenty-five  dollars  would  have  been  such  "nominal" 
price  at  the  time  the  Smelting  Company  applied  for 
title,  but  in  the  meantime  realty  values  were  advancing 
by  leaps  and  bounds,  and  the  best  compromise  I  could 
make  was  the  insertion  of  $750  in  the  contract. 

Ordinarily,  that  would  have  closed  the  incident.  But 
after  receipt  of  patent  I  tendered  $750  and  demanded  a 

[135] 


deed,  only  to  be  laughed  at  for  my  tender.  The  repre- 
sentative of  the  Smelting  Company  repudiated  the 
contract,  and  advised  me  that  I  could  have  the  alterna- 
tive of  paying  $3,000  for  the  lot  or  abandoning  it. 

Suit  in  ejectment  followed,  and,  after  three  years  of 
litigation,  Judge  Hallett,  of  the  federal  court,  decreed 
that  I  should  have  a  deed  for  $750. 

The  Smelter  people,  in  the  interim,  had  paid  taxes 
on  the  lot,  which  they  could  not  recover,  and  the  prop- 
erty in  the  meantime,  small  as  it  was,  had  advanced  in 
value  to  more  than  ten  times  the  contract  price.  Indeed, 
$8,000  had  been  offered  for  it,  and  refused,  two  months 
after  the  first  issue  of  the  Chronicle. 

One  reason  for  the  early  demise  of  the  pioneer  morn- 
ing papers,  the  Eclipse  and  Reveille,  and  perhaps  the 
major  reason,  was  that  they  made  no  attempt  to  furnish 
their  readers  with  telegraphic  news.  There  was  but  a 
single  wire  connecting  the  city  with  the  capital,  and 
commercial  business  almost  completely  monopolized  it. 

Knowing  that  the  Western  Union  could  not  deliver 
the  Associated  Press  report  to  the  Chronicle,  we  em- 
ployed a  correspondent  at  Denver,  to  skim  the  columns 
of  the  world's  news  from  the  Denver  morning  papers 
and  send  it  to  the  Chronicle  in  cipher.  The  few  hundred 
words  thus  wired  were  extended  to  the  limit,  and  made 
to  fill  a  page  of  our  little  paper.  Col  Arkins  did  the 
"padding"  of  this  skeleton  report,  and  I  greatly  fear  he 
at  times  wove  into  the  daily  story  features  not  wholly 
warranted. 

Thus,  upon  occasion,  we  received  two  hundred 
words,  descriptive  of  a  fire  in  Deadwood.  Leadville 
was  full  of  people  from  the  Black  Hills,  all  of  whom  it 
was  presumed  would  be  intensely  interested  in  the  in- 
cident. With  the  assistance  of  Circulator  Whitton,  who 
had  recently  come  from  Deadwood  and  was  acquainted 

[136] 


HYDRAULIC    MINING 

Breaking  down   the  Banks 

in   California   Gulch 


PLACER    MINING 

Sluicing    for    Gold    in 

California  Gulch 


A   CITY   FEATURE 
Dump  of  the  Penrose  30 
feet    above    street    level 


CALIFORNIA    GULCH 

Scene     of     Early    Work,     Showing     Primitive 
Sampling  Works 


with  all  of  its  people,  Col.  Arkins  built  up  a  vivid  story  of 
the  calamity,  a  full  column  in  length,  giving  the  losses 
and  insurance  in  extenso,  and  set  it  off  with  a  "scare" 
heading  so  luminous  as  to  warrant  the  reader  in  believ- 
ing but  little  of  Deadwood  remained.  A  diagram  of  the 
burned  district  also  was  given.  No  city  in  history  was 
ever  so  quickly  and  neatly  removed  from  the  map  as 
was  Deadwood  on  that  occasion. 

Sales  of  the  paper  were  greatly  augmented  that  day. 
A  fortnight  later,  when  exchanges  from  the  place  were 
received,  it  was  with  difficulty  an  account  of  the  fire 
could  be  located,  the  Deadwood  papers  having  dismissed 
the  incident  with  a  single  short  paragraph ! 

Wire  trouble  was  frequent,  and  sometimes  truly  ex- 
asperating. It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  members 
of  the  Chronicle  force  to  get  into  the  field  and  assist  the 
Western  Union  linemen  in  restoring  a  fallen  pole  or 
grounded  wire,  in  order  to  expedite  service. 

Before  spring  arrived  there  came  a  demand  for  the 
Chronicle  in  the  neighboring  towns  of  Kokomo  and  Rob- 
inson, Summit  County,  eighteen  miles  distant,  and 
over  a  mountain  range  of  thirteen  thousand  feet  ele- 
vation. To  supply  this  demand  an  early  edition  was 
issued  and  dispatched  in  a  sleigh  over  that  waste  of 
snow  and  ice. 

It  was  an  arduous  task  for  the  driver,  but  he  never 
failed  to  reach  destination  in  time  for  the  rustling 
newsies  to  serve  three  thousand  subscribers,  and  af- 
fright the  frosty  mountain  air  of  the  eyries  at  sunset 
with  the  legend:  "Here's  your  Evening  Chronicle!  All 
about  the  shipwreck  in  California  Gulch!" 

We  had  a  noble  band  of  these  Arabs  on  the  Chronicle 
and  I  always  felt  well  repaid  for  any  particular  attention 
accorded  them.  Knowing  all,  I  was  one  day  attracted 
by  the  appearance  of  a  new  acquisition,  the  most  dimin- 

[137] 


utive  chap  I  had  ever  seen  in  the  trade.  Hailing  him, 
I  said : 

"Where  do  you  get  your  papers,  young  fellow?" 

"Oh,  I  buy  'em  of  Johnny  Green." 

"Oh,  you  buy  them  of  Johnny  Green !  What  do  you 
pay  for  them  ?" 

"Five  cents." 

"What  do  you  sell  them  for?" 

"Five  cents." 

"Well,  you  don't  seem  to  make  any  profit,  at  that 
rate.  What  do  you  do  it  for?" 

"Oh,  just  to  get  to  holler/' 

Meeting  another,  one  day,  I  thus  saluted  him : 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  Walter?" 

"Oh,  I'm  gettin'  on  fine,  Mr.  Davis;  I've  got  a 
system." 

"Oho,  you've  got  a  system  ?  Well,  well,  what's  your 
system." 

"Well,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  whenever  I  lose  one 
subscriber,  I'll  just  go  out  and  get  two  new  ones." 

I  assured  him  no  one  could  beat  a  system  like  that, 
energetically  pursued.  The  same  little  chap,  before  the 
end  of  the  first  year,  had  earned  the  price  of  two  cabins, 
which  he  rented  at  good  figures. 


[138] 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

ORDER  OUT  OF  CHAOS — CITY  FLOODED — OFFICE 
FORTIFIED — LIFE  IN  JEOPARDY 

Prior  to  the  advent  of  the  Chronicle,  chaos  prevailed 
in  the  location  and  identification  of  freight,  for  it  must 
be  remembered  that  within  a  period  of  six  months  near- 
ly sixty  thousand  persons  were  being  added  to  the 
population.  All  had  to  be  housed,  clothed  and  fed,  and 
every  requirement  had  to  be  transported  hundreds  of 
miles  over  rough  mountain  roads.  As  the  "end  of  the 
track"  advanced  from  week  to  week,  machinery  and 
merchandise  of  every  conceivable  description  was  piled 
upon  the  right  of  way  in  the  uttermost  confusion. 
Wagon  freighters  were  unable  to  handle  the  enormous 
tonnage  offered.  Hundreds  of  loaded  wagons  arrived 
daily,  and  their  cargoes  dumped  in  confused  heaps  with- 
in twenty  enormous  warehouses,  without  attempt  at 
sorting,  classifying  or  indexing.  Merchants  with  wait- 
ing storerooms  and  clamoring  customers  were  frenzied 
by  their  inability  to  secure  consignments  after  arrival. 

Great  difficulty  also  was  experienced  in  locating  in- 
dividuals. Twenty  monster  coaches  would  dump  their 
passengers  in  the  street  at  all  times  of  the  night,  and 
within  an  hour  they  would  be  lost  in  the  crowds  that 
surged  up  and  down  Chestnut  Street,  or  in  the  hills  back 
of  town. 

There  were  neither  street  names  or  house  numbers ; 
the  utmost  confusion  prevailed,  until  the  Chronicle 
solved  the  problem,  and  almost  within  a  day  order  and 
system  was  established  and  maintained. 

A  representative  of  the  newspaper,  stationed  at  the 

[139] 


end  of  the  track,  daily  secured  the  names  of  passengers, 
and  copied  the  way-bills  of  the  railway  in  extenso,  tele- 
graphing the  information  as  fast  as  compiled.  Thus, 
readers  of  the  Chronicle  were  advised  as  to  those  that 
would  arrive  the  following  day  and  by  which  stage  line, 
and  shippers  were  informed  as  to  which  transportation 
line  was  bringing  in  their  freight,  of  what  it  consisted, 
date  of  probable  arrival,  and  to  what  warehouse 
consigned. 

The  Chronicle  lost  no  subscribers  by  this  stroke  of 
enterprise.  Ninety  per  cent,  of  the  people  were  directly 
interested  in  the  two  propositions.  Virtually  everybody 
had  to  have  the  Chronicle. 

Rapid  increase  in  circulation  necessitated  the  sub- 
stitution of  some  kind  of  power  for  the  two  darkies  em- 
ployed to  turn  the  cylinder  of  the  big  newspaper  press. 
Upon  completion  of  the  water  works  a  turbine  water 
wheel  was  introduced,  and  during  the  summer  of  '79 
filled  every  requirement;  but,  when  winter  came,  the 
water  discharged  from  the  pipes  froze  in  the  gutters  of 
Harrison  Avenue  and  overflowed  half  the  town.  This 
trouble  had  not  been  anticipated,  and  before  the  water 
wheel  could  be  exchanged  for  a  steam  engine,  scores  of 
merchants  were  threatening  damage  suits. 

We  telegraphed  an  order,  appealed  to  the  railroads 
to  expedite  the  shipment,  and  offered  a  bonus  of  $100  to 
the  freighter  that  should  land  the  engine  in  the  office 
within  thirty  days. 

The  wagon  freight  on  that  boiler  and  engine,  from 
the  end  of  the  track,  at  ten  cents  a  pound,  far  exceeded 
the  railway  expense  bill  from  Troy,  N.Y. 

During  that  thirty  days'  period  of  waiting  we  were 
put  to  our  wits'  end  to  keep  the  office  from  being  mobbed 
by  sufferers  from  the  overflow.  But  the  Chief  of  Police 
and  Sheriff  finally  came  to  our  relief,  loaning  the  ser- 

[140] 


vices  of  a  little  army  of  prisoners  from  city  and  county 
jails.  At  times  a  hundred  men  were  required  to  keep 
the  gutter  open  to  California  Gulch. 

Perhaps  the  gravest  problem  was  to  maintain  a 
stock  of  news  print  paper,  since  at  times  supplies  were 
on  the  road  for  two  months.  In  such  crises  it  became 
necessary  to  send  mounted  couriers  out  along  the  sev- 
eral transportation  lines,  instructed  to  find  freighters 
with  consignments  of  paper  and  offer  handsome  bonuses 
to  the  one  first  arriving.  Once  only  did  it  happen  that 
the  last  sheet  was  being  fed  to  the  press  when  a  fresh 
supply  appeared  in  sight. 

To  suspend  publication  for  a  single  day  would  have 
inflicted  immeasurable  damage  upon  the  mining  indus- 
try. Many  columns  were  filled  with  advertisements  of 
patents  pending,  a  legal  requirement  of  the  government 
of  sixty  days'  continuous  publication.  The  lapse  of  a 
single  issue  would  have  necessitated  a  republication  of 
them  all,  the  delay  inviting  the  filing  of  adverse  claims. 
Upon  our  fidelity  in  strictly  complying  with  this  regula- 
tion might  involve  the  title  to  claims  valued  in  hundreds 
of  thousands,  if  not  millions,  of  dollars. 

Difficulty  was  at  times  experienced  in  procuring  even 
so  common  a  commodity  as  coal  oil,  sole  dependence  for 
lighting  purposes,  and  I  not  infrequently  stood  in  line 
for  an  hour  behind  an  oil  wagon,  waiting  my  turn  to  be 
served,  at  a  dollar  a  gallon. 

Before  the  installation  of  a  water  system,  that  essen- 
tial was  purchased  of  peddlers  at  50  cents  a  barrel.  My 
order  for  an  empty  barrel  was  filled  at  the  end  of  a 
three  weeks'  wait,  and  the  final  possession  of  that  barrel, 
my  dear  reader,  might  easily  have  cost  me  my  life. 

The  merchant,  Mr.  Geo.  B.  Robinson,  directed  me  to 
a  warehouse  at  the  rear  of  his  store,  where  a  barrel  had 
been  set  aside  for  me,  but  a  burly  miner  from  the  Black 

[141] 


Hills  got  to  it  first.  He  towered  above  me  a  full  six 
feet ;  there  was  apparent  in  his  features  a  set  determina- 
tion, while  in  his  belt  dangled  two  six  shooters. 

It  didn't  take  him  long  to  convince  me  that  I  didn't 
want  that  particular  barrel  at  all,  though  by  all  the  rules 
of  law  and  equity,  not  to  mention  courtesy,  it  was  my 
property.  I  had  ordered  it,  waited  three  weeks  for  de- 
livery, and  paid  three  dollars  for  it.  I  believe  I  apol- 
ogized for  coveting  the  barrel  at  all,  and  timidly  backed 
out  of  the  warehouse  while  he  was  rolling  it  out  of  an- 
other door !  As  a  reward  for  my  patience,  Mr.  Robinson 
soon  supplied  me  with  another  barrel. 

Early  in  the  history  of  the  Chronicle,  S.  C.  Beckwith, 
New  York  representative  of  the  Kansas  City  Times, 
wrote  for  authority  to  act  as  our  agent  in  the  metropolis. 
His  credentials  being  satisfactory,  an  exclusive  agency 
for  the  Eastern  States  was  given  him.  On  a  visit  to  New 
York,  two  months  later,  I  found  Beckwith  installed  in 
a  badly  equipped  office,  in  a  dingy  loft  in  Park  Place. 
This  was  not  likely  to  impress  large  advertisers.  He 
was  just  starting  and  not  able  to  plunge.  I  authorized 
him  to  lease  the  finest  obtainable  suite  in  the  Tribune 
Building,  telling  him  if  the  Kansas  City  Times  would 
not  share  in  the  expense  of  suitably  furnishing  it,  he 
could  draw  upon  me  for  the  entire  cost. 

The  genius  in  his  make-up  had  not  escaped  me.  The 
arrangement  made  with  him  as  agent  proved  a  master 
stroke.  The  business  secured  for  the  Chronicle  from 
Eastern  advertisers  aggregated  many  thousand  dollars 
annually.  From  time  to  time  he  was  permitted  to  take 
on  other  non-competing  newspapers,  until  the  "S.  C. 
Beckwith  Special  Newspaper  Agency"  came  to  be  recog- 
nized as  the  largest  in  the  country.  Beckwith  possessed 
a  large  quantity  of  gray  matter.  Its  pre-emption  by  the 
Chronicle  proved  immensely  profitable. 

[142] 


In  the  course  of  time  Beckwith  wrote  me  that  the 
leading  newspaper  men  of  England  and  America  were 
arranging  a  pretentious  banquet,  to  be  given  in  London, 
in  honor  of  Mr.  Barrett,  advertising  manager  of  Pears' 
soap,  the  largest  patron  in  Europe  of  American  news- 
papers, and  soliciting  a  contribution  toward  the  expense 
of  the  elaborate  function.  I  responded  with  a  check, 
accompanied  by  a  copy  of  the  Evening  Chronicle,  wholly 
printed  on  white  satin,  and  carrying  an  advertisement 
of  Pears'  soap  in  the  center  of  the  first  page. 

This  unique  souvenir  of  a  journal,  printed  at  an 
elevation  two  miles  above  the  sea,  was  presented  to  Mr. 
Barrett  at  the  banquet,  eliciting  the  attention  and  admir- 
ation of  the  hundreds  of  guests  present  from  all  over  the 
continent.  Years  later,  when  a  wide-spread  financial 
crisis  dictated  curtailment  of  advertising  in  America, 
the  Leadville  Evening  Chronicle  was  the  only  paper  in 
Colorado  that  escaped  the  sweeping  retrenchment  order. 

Casting  bread  upon  the  waters  sometimes  is  expen- 
sive, but  there  are  occasions  when  it  is  returned  multi- 
plied an  hundred  fold. 


[143] 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

STARTLING  DISINTEGRATION  OF  THE  WORKING  FORCE — 
ONE  MAN  ONLY  AT  THE  HELM 

I  assume  that,  ere  this,  the  reader  will  have  con- 
cluded that  the  publication  of  a  daily  newspaper  in  Lead- 
ville  was  a  trifle  difficult.  I  have  really  related  but  a 
few  of  many  instances  suggesting  it.  Surplus  men, 
skilled  in  journalism,  were  never  wont  to  hibernate 
where  altitude  and  cost  of  living  were  on  a  level.  Edi- 
tors and  printers  had  to  be  imported  from  Denver  or 
farther  East. 

Before  the  paper  was  four  months  old  Col.  Arkins 
was  attacked  by  pneumonia,  and  it  was  arranged  to  send 
him  to  the  valley. 

The  same  day  the  advertising  manager  received  tel- 
egraphic announcement  that  his  wife  was  dying  in  Mis- 
souri, and  he  decided  to  accompany  Col.  Arkins. 

That  night  the  pressman  died,  and  the  next  day,  be- 
fore Arkins  and  Manager  Pritchett  had  fairly  cleared 
the  outskirts,  word  came  to  me  that  five  printers  had  be- 
come ill,  presumably  from  drinking  water  from  a  spring, 
discovered  the  day  before  in  the  mountains. 

The  working  force  eight  men  short  on  that  memor- 
able Monday  morning,  made  the  prospect  of  an  issue  of 
the  paper  exceedingly  doubtful,  but  with  a  fair  represen- 
tation of  editorial,  local  and  telegraphic  news  matter,  I 
closed  the  forms  at  4  o'clock,  threw  on  the  power,  and 
took  the  pressman's  place  at  the  feed  board. 

It  well  may  be  doubted  if  ever,  before  or  since,  an 

[144] 


HOX.    THOS.    M.    PATTERSON 
Journalist.    Ex-t*.   S.    Senator 


HON.    SIMON    GUGGENHEIM 

Mine  and  Smelter  Owner, 

Ex-U.   S.    Senator 


HON.    HENRY    M.    TELLER 
Ex-Secretary  of  Interior. 

Ex-U.     S.    Senator 
HON.     PETER    W.     BREENE  MAXEY     TABOR 

Ex-Lieut      Governor,  Prominent    Hotel   Man  and 

Ex-State   Treasurer  Manufacturer 


issue  of  a  daily  newspaper  was  accomplished  practically 
by  a  single  individual. 

While  the  paper  was  being  printed  that  day  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  characters  I  ever  met  edged  his 
way  into  the  press  room.  Without  stopping  the  machine 
to  learn  his  mission,  I  yet  was  able  to  scan  his  stolid 
features  and  eccentric  garb,  and,  mentally  to  speculate  as 
to  his  proper  place  in  the  economy  of  nature,  if  indeed 
he  could  claim  place.  Certain  I  was  that  his  counter- 
part had  never  been  seen.  Five  feet  nine  inches  in 
height,  weighing  nearly  two  hundred  pounds,  with  broad 
chest  and  well  shaped,  muscular  limbs,  he  was  a  verit- 
able Hercules  in  physical  appearance.  He  had  a  shapely 
head,  crowned  with  a  wealth  of  black  hair,  straight  as 
that  of  an  Indian,  eyes  of  the  same  hue,  set  far  back,  a 
heavy  mustache  falling  over  a  distinctly  overhanging 
jaw.  Every  feature  was  indicative  of  strength,  but  aside 
from  that  characteristic,  it  would  be  difficult  to  deter- 
mine whether  he  was  a  peasant  newly  arrived  from 
Hungary  or  the  Balkan  States,  an  emigrant  from 
Western  Pennsylvania,  a  Sherlock  Holmes  in  one  of  his 
many  disguises,  or  a  plain  clothes  man  from  Scotland 
Yard.  His  trousers,  of  coarse  material,  were  tucked  in 
rough  horse-hide  boots ;  his  other  visible  garment  was  a 
diminutive  jacket  or  "wamus,"  the  whole  surmounted 
with  a  policeman's  cap! 

Introducing  himself  as  Seth  Payne,  he  said  he  was 
a  newspaper  man  in  search  of  work. 

I  much  doubted  him,  and  under  ordinary  conditions 
would  have  turned  him  down  without  ceremony.  But 
the  circumstances  were  distinctly  extraordinary,  and, 
without  waste  of  words  or  time,  I  assigned  him  to  the 
streets,  to  gather  what  news  he  might  for  the  morrow's 
paper.  Before  7  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  copy  hook 
was  loaded  with  local  intelligence,  stories  of  exceeding 

[145] 


great  human  interest,  and  "personals"  that  fairly  sizzled 
with  wit,  humor,  irony  and  pathos.  Let  me  give  an 
illustration  of  his  "style:" 

"John  Henderson,  an  escaped  convict  from  the 
Indiana  penitentiary,  arrived  in  the  city  last  evening. 
He  is  quartered  at  316  Hemlock  Street,  adjoining  the 
Last  Chance  Saloon.  Six  feet  two  inches  in  height, 
black  hair,  florid  complexion,  deep  scar  on  left  temple. 
Expects  to  locate  permanently." 

This,  perhaps,  would  be  followed  by  a  minute  de- 
scription of  the  personnel  of  a  Bishop  of  the  Episcopal 
faith,  including  every  detail  of  his  attire,  how  he  ap- 
peared as  he  entered  the  dining  room  of  the  Grand  Hotel, 
and  appended  with  a  list  of  items  selected  from  the  menu 
for  the  evening  meal,  the  only  possible  inference  being 
that  the  reverend  gentleman  was  a  gourmand,  wholly 
deficient  in  spiritual  characteristics. 

No  reputable  journal  in  this  day  and  generation 
would  give  place  to  such  atrocious  caricaturing  of  a  di- 
vine, distinguished  or  lacking  in  distinction,  but  it  was 
highly  acceptable  to  a  large  element  of  the  population, 
and  I  printed  it,  without  much  thought  as  to  the  deep 
humiliation  it  might  cause  the  Bishop.  That  he  took 
the  outgoing  coach  the  following  day  is  not  surprising. 
As  for  the  "escaped  convict"  item,  I  felt  it  might  prove 
expensive  to  me  before  the  subject  should  leave  the 
camp. 

From  all  quarters  of  the  globe  there  congregated  in 
Leadville,  in  1879,  all  manner  of  wicked  persons — mur- 
derers, thieves,  bunco-steerers,  confidence  men,  good 
and  bad  members  of  the  gambling  fraternity,  pickpock- 
ets, thugs,  yeggs,  and  promoters  of  all  sorts  of  swind- 
ling enterprises. 

Every  day  brought  its  round  of  crimes,  committed 

[146] 


the  night  before,  and  as  time  passed  and  they  were  un- 
molested by  the  almost  powerless  peace  officers,  they 
grew  bolder  in  their  operations. 

The  Chronicle  had  just  begun  a  merciless  crusade 
against  this  element,  determined  to  drive  it  out  of  town. 
In  pursuit  of  this  policy,  Payne  was  in  his  element.  His 
looks,  dress  and  general  make-up  greatly  aided  him  in 
his  savage  probing,  since  no  one  so  much  as  guessed  his 
identity.  He  had  the  courage  to  write  the  truth,  and 
the  Chronicle  had  the  courage  to  print  what  he  wrote. 

When  the  chiefs  of  the  outlaws  came  to  realize  that 
it  was  to  be  a  relentless  crusade,  they  sent  their  emissa- 
ries to  me  in  the  hope  that  I  could  be  bought  off.  They 
reasoned  and  plead,  cajoled  and  threatened,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  In  their  boldness  they  did  not  hesitate, 
through  agents,  to  parley  with  me  over  the  counter, 
brazenly  offering  to  share  plunder  with  me  upon  a  per- 
centage basis,  or  to  give  a  fixed  sum  per  diem  for  my 
silence. 

My  bookkeeper  was  a  human  dictograph,  and  every 
proposition  made  was  taken  down  at  the  time,  subse- 
quently extended  and  published  in  extenso  in  the  next 
issue,  names  and  description  of  the  emissaries  never 
omitted. 

Discouraged  by  their  efforts  at  bribery,  they  re- 
sorted to  threats  of  personal  violence  toward  myself  and 
members  of  the  staff,  and  to  raid  the  plant  and  burn  it 
down.  It  was  at  this  juncture  I  first  barricaded  the  of- 
fice and  armed  the  employes. 

Before  the  crusade  had  reached  this  extreme  limit 
of  peril,  an  amusing  incident  occurred.  Payne,  his  iden- 
tity wholly  unsuspected,  was  watching  the  games  in  a 
large  gambling  hall  adjoining  the  Grand  Central  Thea- 
tre, and  apparently  became  absorbed  in  a  particularly 
brazen  bunco  scheme  operated  by  "Doc"  Baggs,  one  of 

[147] 


the  most  widely  known  all-around  swindlers  of  the 
country.  Finally  Payne  was  importuned  to  take  a  hand, 
but  pleading  that  his  funds  were  in  his  room,  he  turned 
to  leave,  feeling  that  the  atmosphere  was  getting  a  trifle 
too  warm  for  him.  He  was  followed  to  the  door  by  a 
"capper"  for  Baggs,  to  whom,  in  order  to  bring  the  mat- 
ter to  a  climax,  he  tendered  his  card : 

"SETH  PAYNE, 

"City  Editor  Chronicle" 

The  capper,  who  had  sized  him  up  as  an  easy  mark, 
was  almost  petrified  by  the  intelligence  that  the  intended 
victim  was  none  other  than  the  hated  reporter  who  was 
firing  such  hot  shot  into  the  camp  of  his  cult  three  times 
a  day.  Had  the  disclosure  been  made  while  yet  in  the 
jungle,  there  is  no  conjecturing  what  might  have  hap- 
pened. 

Instead  of  exploding,  however,  the  capper  became 
convulsed  with  laughter  over  the  contretemps,  and 
grasping  Payne's  hand  he  gave  to  it  a  cordial  shake, 
invited  him  to  revisit  the  den  that  night,  and  promised 
to  give  him  enough  material  to  make  a  good  story. 

The  invitation  was  accepted,  but  as  a  precautionary 
measure,  I  accompanied  Payne,  and  both  were  highly 
entertained  by  an  extended  description  of  all  the  games 
anH  how  they  were  employed  to  wrest  money  from  the 
ur  ispecting.  Payne's  report  upon  that  evening's  de- 
velopment speedily  went  the  rounds  of  the  press  of  the 
country. 

Seth  Payne  held  the  position  of  City  Editor  for  two 
years.  I  soon  learned  that  he  was  not,  as  at  first  pre- 
sumed, a  product  of  the  far  West.  His  native  habitat 
had  been  New  Jersey,  and  he  was  the  founder  of  the 

[148] 


Jersey  City  Times.  He  had  previously  enjoyed  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  brightest  and  wittiest  paragrapher 
on  the  Atlantic  Coast.  His  "style"  had  upon  occasion 
landed  him  in  the  penitentiary,  convicted  of  criminal  li- 
bel, and  while  incarcerated  he  wrote  a  book  upon  the 
treatment  of  prisoners  in  penal  institutions  that  had  a 
large  sale.  Mrs.  Payne  managed  the  Times  during  the 
entire  period  of  his  confinement. 

Payne's  eccentricities  were  not  wholly  confined  to 
dress.  During  his  lengthy  connection  with  the  Chron- 
icle he  never  wrote  a  line  in  the  office — always  and  in- 
variably at  the  precise  locality  where  the  "bones"  for  his 
article  were  discovered.  The  end  of  a  counter,  or  con- 
venient beer  barrel  in  saloon  or  gambling  den,  a  newly- 
made  grave  in  the  cemetery,  the  surface  of  a  wall  in  the 
city  bastile,  the  steps  of  a  church,  bench  in  park  or  school 
room — wherever  the  news  originated,  there  Payne  would 
sit  down,  were  there  a  seat,  or  stand  up  in  its  absence, 
and  write  his  story,  handing  into  the  office  the  "copy"  so 
produced  in  passing. 

Thus  it  happened,  in  writing  a  description  of  a  forest 
fire  that  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  threat- 
ened its  destruction,  he  remained  in  an  abandoned  cabin 
until  the  roof  caught  fire  and  fell  upon  his  devoted  head, 
and  so  intent  was  he,  even  then,  that  he  be  allowed  to 
finish  his  story  there,  that  he  had  to  be  forcibly  pulled 
out  by  the  members  of  the  fire  department. 

Suffering  from  insomnia,  Payne  was  in  the  habit 
of  frequently  changing  his  sleeping  quarters,  in  the  hope 
that  in  a  different  environment  he  might  fare  better, 
until  he  hit  upon  the  idea  that  in  the  solitude  and  "dim 
religious  light"  of  the  sanctuary  he  might  find  rest.  Rev. 
Tom  Uzzell,  the  "fighting  parson,"  accorded  him  access 
to  the  Methodist  Church,  behind  the  pulpit  of  which,  and 
on  the  floor,  but  well  wrapped  in  blankets,  he  thereafter 

[149] 


found  an  abundance  of  "Nature's  sweet  restorer,"  nor 
was  he  ever  known  to  look  for  other  accommodations. 

Another  notable  eccentricity,  the  occasional  exercise 
of  which  almost  drove  me  to  hard  drink,  was  his  prone- 
ness  to  drop  out  of  sight,  without  hint  left  at  office  as  to 
why  or  wherefore.  Thus  would  he  wander  off  into  the 
mountains  and  remain  for  days  at  a  time,  resuming  his 
duties  when  fancy  dictated,  but  without  explanation  of 
his  mysterious  disappearance  or  apology  for  the  incon- 
venience occasioned  the  management. 

I  cheerfully  overlooked  these  extraordinary  lapses, 
realizing  the  impossibility  of  replacing  him.  To  the  con- 
tinued fame  of  the  Chronicle,  as  a  live  wire  in  the  jour- 
nalistic field,  he  was  at  the  time  well  nigh  indispensa- 
ble. But  the  Great  Reaper  came  noiselessly  along  one 
bleak  November  day,  and  thereafter  Seth  Payne  had  no 
difficulty  in  sleeping.  Under  the  soughing  pines  of  Ever- 
green, beneath  the  shadows  of  Mount  Massive,  with  per- 
petual ice  and  snow  for  a  winding  sheet,  we  mournfully 
laid  him,  lovingly,  tenderly,  thinking  only  of  his  virtues, 
piecing  out  his  imperfections  with  our  thoughts. 

In  sooth  he  was  a  man. 

His  daily  toil  and  rough  hardships  of  an  arduous  life 

Making  some  rude  and  rugged — 

Filled  him  still 

With  kindly  courtesy. 

His  faults,  say  you? 

Aye,  if  he  knew  one  such 

Twas  overbourne  by  the  great  good  he  wrought. 


[150] 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  RETORT  FINAL — "A  THIEF  BY  INSTINCT,  A  BLACK- 
MAILER BY  PROFESSION" 

Col.   Arkins'  mantle  had   fallen  upon  the  capable 
shoulders  of  Major  Henry  Ward,  U.  S.  Army,  retired, 
who  for  years  had  lent  to  the  editorial  pages  of  the  Den- 
ver Tribune  its  brightest  gems  of  wit  and  wisdom.     A 
man  of  mature  years,  scholarly  and  dignified,  his  con- 
scientious work  at  once  gave  the  Chronicle  commanding 
position  along  with  its  elders  in  the  field  of  Colorado 
journalism.     Major  Ward  was  a  man  of  wonderfu 
poise  and  self-control,  complete  master  of  his  emotion 
and  I  f  ecall  but  one  instance,  during  his  long  connects 
with  the  paper,  when  he  gave  vent  to  consuming  inwa 
fires.    A  local  morning  contemporary,  edited  by  a  fii- 
eating  "Colonel,"  one  Bartow,  had  for  years  proceed 
upon  the  theory  that  an  issue  of  his  newspaper  that  d 
not  contain  an  abusive  thrust  at  the  owner  of  the  Chrc 
icle  was  a  dismal  failure. 

Major  Ward  was  restive  under  my  policy  of  siler 
One  morning  he  came  in  visibly  agitated  over  a  parti 
larly  scurrilous  diatribe  directed  at  me  by  Col.  Bartx 
The  latter  had  a  distinctly  bad  personal  record,  familia 
to  Major  Ward,  and  upon  this  occasion  the  latter  plea< 
with  me  to  permit  him  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  libeler 
"Let  me  write  'two  sticks'   about  him,"  pleaded   th 
Major,  "and  I'll  wager  he'll  never  again  mention  you  c 
your  paper." 

I  yielded,  more  as  a  concession  to  the  man  who  h ' 
been  so  loyal  to  me  than  through  desire  for  reprisal,  ?  ' 

[151] 


the  result  was  the  most  illuminating  exposure  of  a 
wicked  pretender  I  ever  remember  to  have  seen  in  print. 
One  of  the  Major's  mildest  expletives,  that  I  now  recall, 
held  up  the  offending  Colonel  as  a  "thief  by  instinct  and 
a  blackmailer  by  profession." 

The  article  was  actionable  in  every  line  and  para- 
graph, but  Bartow  knew  the  laws  of  Colorado  permitted 
the  truth  of  publication  to  be  set  up  in  justification,  and 
he  had  no  disposition  to  have  his  bankrupt  reputation 
aired  in  a  court  of  justice. 

Major  Ward's  conjecture  proved  correct.  Bartow 
never  again  referred  to  the  Chronicle  or  its  proprietor. 
However,  Major  Ward's  bitter  castigation  rankled  in 
the  Colonel's  bosom,  and  it  was  rightly  surmised  that  he 
would  either  challenge  me  to  the  field  of  combat  or  seek 
an  encounter  with  me  in  the  streets.  I  was  urged  to  arm 
myself,  and  more  as  a  concession  to  the  fears  of  my 
associates  in  the  office  than  apprehension  of  possible  con- 
sequences— really  in  a  spirit  of  ironical  mockery — I  per- 
mitted them  to  lay  on  my  table,  in  full  view  of  passers-by 
in  the  street,  two  loaded  six-shooters.  This  hasty  prep- 
aration had  scarcely  been  completed,  when  the  pompous 
Colonel  was  observed  approaching.  A  moment  later  he 
passed  the  window  behind  which  I  sat,  obviously  saw 
the  ugly  weapons  lying  before  me,  and  moved  hurriedly 
by,  doubtless  mentally  wrestling  with  the  conclusive 
proposition  that : 

"He  who  fights  and  runs  away 
May  live  to  fight  another  day; 
But  he  who  in  the  battle's  slain 
Will  never  live  to  fight  again." 

In  later  years  I  embraced  an  opportunity  to  even 

res  with  Col.  Bartow.     His  employers,  without  an 

>  r's  notice,  had  dispensed  with  his  services,  which 

[152] 


left  him  practically  penniless  to  face  the  rigors  of  an  ap- 
proaching winter,  without  provision  for  his  dependent 
wife  and  children. 

I  had  not  recognized  him  since  the  Ward  episode, 
but,  learning  of  his  unfortunate  plight,  I  sent  for  him, 
extended  temporary  financial  relief,  and  tendered  him 
a  position  suited  to  his  tastes  on  the  Chronicle.  This  he 
gratefully  accepted  and  did  yeoman  service.  He  may 
at  times  have  winced,  when  the  name  of  the  late  la- 
mented Major  Ward  was  incidentally  mentioned  in  the 
office,  but  I  never  gave  distant  hint  of  the  "late  unpleas- 
antness." 

He  was  high  strung  and  supersensitive.  I,  perhaps, 
was  rather  considerate  and  forgiving.  The  war  between 
the  North  and  South  again  was  closed,  at  an  Appomat- 
tox  of  my  own  choosing.  Col.  Bartow  rests  at  Ever- 
green, companion  of  Major  Ward,  in  the  dreamless 
sleep  of  the  eternal  years — 

"Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 
Waiting  the  judgment  day; 

Under  the  roses  the  Blue, 

Under  the  lilies  the  Gray." 


[153] 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
\ 

FIRST  EDITOR  OF  HARPER'S  WEEKLY  JOINS  THE 
STAFF — REPORTER'S  TRAGIC  END 

Leadville  now  was  attracting  a  better  class  of  people, 
a  higher  order  of  intelligence  and  culture,  and  the  hilar- 
ious roundelay  of  the  days  of  79  was  gradually  giving 
way  to  a  more  quiet  and  decorous  civilization.  Changed 
and  changing  conditions  called  for  corresponding  im- 
provement in  the  tone  and  policy  of  the  paper.  Without 
sacrificing  the  distinctly  "yellow"  feature  of  the  local 
pages,  for  which  there  yet  was  a  pronounced  demand,  I 
supplemented  thrilling  narratives  with  a  literary  depart- 
ment, placing  it  in  charge  of  Harry  Norton,  "Poet  of 
the  Sierras,"  who  came  to  me  with  the  prestige  of  years 
of  cultured  toil  on  the  press  of  the  Pacific  Slope.  "Fern 
Leaves,"  and  other  volumes  of  verse,  had  established 
his  reputation  as  a  poet.  Adapting  his  muse  to  the 
unique  environment  of  Leadville  and  its  cosmopolitan 
population,  that  department  of  the  Chronicle  was  in- 
stantly received  with  joyful  acclaim,  and  its  popularity 
maintained. 

George  Wallihan,  author  of  the  "Scarlet  Letter," 
and  one  of  the  conspicuous  characters  in  a  nation-wide 
scandal  of  the  period  (not  related  to  the  Hawthorne 
Scarlet  Letter,  however)  was  next  enrolled  amongst  the 
galaxy  of  stars  in  the  newspaper  firmament  of  the  Far 
West,  and  contributed  immeasurably  to  the  steadily  in- 
creasing fame  of  the  Chronicle. 

The  paper  had  come  to  be  as  profitable  as  popular. 
Hence,  I  was  able  to  hang  up  seductive  salaries,  and  to 

[164] 


JAMES    MacCARTHY    ("Fitz    Mac") 

Literary    Editor    Leadville 

Herald- Democrat 

COL.    JOHN    BONNER 

Mining  Authority.   Editor  Leadville 

Chronicle 

HENRY    C.     BUTLER 

Latter-Day   Dean   of   Leadville 

Journalism 


JAMES    RILAND 
City   Editor   Leadville    Herald- 
Democrat 

EDWARD    R.    COWEN 
Managing    Editor    Leadville    Herald- 
Democrat 

SETH     PAYNE 

Eccentric    City    Editor    Leadville 
Chronicle 


pick  my  material  without  much  reference  to  cost.  Thus, 
in  turn,  I  engaged  the  services  of  Col.  John  Bonner,  a 
profound  writer  on  political  economy,  philosophical  com- 
mentator and  historian,  author  of  "Child's  History  of 
the  World,"  an  editorial  writer  on  the  New  York  Herald 
back  in  the  50s,  and  the  first  editor  of  Harper's  Weekly. 
Coming  from  England  in  early  life,  he  located  in  the 
metropolis,  and  engaged  in  banking;  but  in  the  historical 
financial  crisis  of  '73  his  concern  became  deeply  in- 
volved. CoL  Bonner  emerged  from  Wall  Street  with 
an  unsatisfied  judgment  against  him  of  $250,000.  While 
in  my  employ  he  obtained  a  thirty  days'  leave,  to  enable 
him  to  return  to  New  York  to  endeavor  to  have  this 
incubus  removed.  Failing  in  the  undertaking,  he  came 
back  to  Leadville,  to  resume  his  labors  with  the  enormous 
burden  still  upon  his  shoulders. 

Graduate  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  but  especially 
equipped  with  technical  knowledge  of  geology,  mineral- 
ogy and  ore  occurrence,  he  built  up  for  the  Chronicle  a 
reputation  as  a  mining  authority  nation-wide  in  its 
scope,  and  surviving  to  this  day.  So  capable  was  he  in 
this  field  that  he  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  seer,  and 
when  his  views  seemed  to  conflict  with  periodical  reports 
of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey,  local  mine  own- 
ers and  managers  inclined  to  the  opinion  of  Col.  Bon- 
ner, rather  than  to  those  of  Prof.  Emmons  and  other 
illustrious  mineralogists  and  metallurgists  of  the  bureau. 

In  1897  I  met  Col.  Bonner  for  the  last  time.  Al- 
though past  eighty,  he  enjoyed  a  fair  degree  of  health, 
and  his  activities  would  have  taxed  the  strength  and  en- 
durance of  many  men  his  junior.  Besides  editing  the 
San  Francisco  Bulletin,  he  was  contributing  signed  arti- 
cles to  other  coast  journals,  as  well  as  to  various  Eastern 
periodicals,  walking  to  the  office  daily,  scorning  street 
cars  in  reaching  it,  and  the  assistance  of  stenographers 

[165] 


when  arrived  there.  A  year  or  two  later  I  was  greatly 
surprised  to  learn  that  he  had  pushed  on  almost  to  the 
Arctic  Circle,  with  operating  base  at  Dawson. 

Col.  Bonner  was  at  times  amusingly  eccentric.  He 
would  brook  no  interference,  advice  or  dictation  in  the 
conduct  of  his  mining  department,  and  to  "manage"  him 
without  friction  called  for  the  exercise  of  considerable 
tact  and  diplomacy.  I  recall  but  one  instance,  however, 
when  our  ideas  clashed.  He  insisted  upon  spelling  Czar 
with  a  "T" — and  it  continued  to  be  spelled  that  way  to 
the  end  of  his  "reign." 

Another  valued  acquisition  to  the  local  staff  of  the 
Chronicle  was  Henry  Thornton.  His  record  was  clean 
and  wholesome,  although  without  special  distinction,  but 
his  tragic  death  warrants  a  paragraph  here.  Of  a  deeply 
religious  nature,  he  early  allied  himself  with  the  Presby- 
terian church  and  the  good  work  it  was  doing  in  the 
riotous  mining  camp  of  the  period.  In  the  course  of 
time  he  recognized  a  "call"  to  do  missionary  work  in 
Alaska,  accepting  with  the  proviso  that  he  first  be  privi- 
leged to  return  to  his  native  Pennsylvania  village,  marry 
the  sweet,  patient  girl  who  long  had  been  waiting  for 
him  to  come  out  of  the  Great  West  with  a  "stake,"  and 
take  her  with  him.  They  were  assigned  to  Cape  Prince 
of  Wales,  last  outpost  of  civilization,  with  but  eighteen 
miles  of  water  separating  the  United  States  from  Si- 
beria. 

Bride  and  groom  were  the  only  white  residents  of  a 
broad  scope  of  frozen  land,  the  nearest  military  post 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  down  the  coast,  transpor- 
tation overland  confined  to  sledges.  An  occasional 
whaler  or  fishing  smack  put  in  at  the  Cape,  but  oppor- 
tunities for  getting  away  depended  wholly  upon  the 
fickleness  of  Chance. 

Here   Henry   and  his   wife  established   a   mission 

[156] 


church  and  school,  and  devoted  themselves  assiduously 
to  the  work  of  regenerating  the  stolid  and  sodden  Alas- 
kan Indian.  For  diversion  they  "published"  a  diminu- 
tive newspaper,  filled  with  interesting  news,  comment 
and  gossip,  the  few  copies  issued  being  produced  wholly 
with  pen  and  ink — red,  purple  and  black — the  product 
constituting  a  most  unique  souvenir  of  their  mission 
work.  Had  they  contented  themselves  with  ministering 
to  the  physical  requirements  of  their  wards,  and  given 
less  heed  to  their  moral  uplift,  all  might  have  been  well, 
but  a  fatal  mistake  was  made  in  attempting  to  deprive 
the  Indians  of  liquor,  procured  by  swapping  pelts  with 
itinerant  traders.  Drunkenness  was  creating  havoc  in 
the  tribes,  and  to  the  eradication  of  the  evil  Henry  and 
his  wife  enlisted  every  faculty. 

Unfortunately,  he  delayed  too  long  the  making  of  an 
appeal  for  protection,  and  his  dalliance  cost  him  his  life. 
In  a  lengthy  communication  to  me  he  pictured  the  situa- 
tion and  extreme  peril  of  his  position,  and  expressed  fear 
that  a  climax  at  any  moment  might  be  precipitated. 

I  promptly  wired  the  facts  to  the  War  Department, 
and  urged  the  Colorado  delegation  in  Congress  to  sup- 
port my  appeal.  But,  before  an  expedition  could  be  fit- 
ted out  to  succor  the  unfortunate  missionary,  a  band  of 
drink-crazed  Indians  forced  their  way  into  his  cabin  at 
night  and  brutally  murdered  him  before  the  eyes  of  his 
devoted  wife. 

Can  the  reader,  keeping  in  mind  the  salient  facts, 
here  briefly  recited,  conceive  of  a  more  desperate  situa- 
tion than  that  which  confronted  this  fragile  American 
girl,  on  that  bleak  Alaskan  shore,  and  in  the  deep  solitude 
of  the  long  Arctic  night,  alone  with  the  dead  body  of  her 
beloved  and  devoted  husband !  My  pen  is  palsied  in  con- 
templation of  its  duty  in  depicting  the  horrors  of  the 
scene. 

[157] 


career  contradicted  all  of  the  favorite  dogmas  of  hered- 
ity. Perhaps  these  animadversions  should  have  fol- 
lowed, rather  than  preceded,  a  recital  of  his  connection 
with  the  Chronicle,  for  his  exploits  as  an  outlaw  mainly 
occurred  after  leaving  Leadville. 

Interest  attaches  even  to  the  details  of  his  initial  em- 
ployment and  his  first  performance  on  the  paper.  A 
mutual  acquaintance  from  Stein's  home  at  Lafayette, 
Indiana,  had  exhibited  some  clippings  of  his  work  on 
the  local  press,  that  satisfied  me  of  his  rather  extra- 
ordinary ability,  and  I  wired  him  an  offer  to  come  West. 
He  advised  me  of  his  acceptance,  giving  probable  date 
of  arrival,  and  I  awaited  his  coming  with  eagerness,  his 
services  being  much  needed. 

Passenger  trains  arrived  only  in  the  morning  and 
evening,  and  although  failing  to  put  in  an  appearance  in 
the  early  hours,  I  assumed  that  he  had  laid  over  at  Pu- 
eblo, and  would  come  up  the  next  morning.  Early  in 
the  afternoon,  however,  he  presented  himself  at  the  of- 
fice, and  declared  himself  ready  for  assignment.  I  told 
him  he  could  take  the  street  and  gather  what  he  might 
for  the  next  day's  issues. 

At  this  he  handed  me  a  large  roll  of  manuscript,  with 
the  explanation  that,  had  he  taken  the  risk  of  first  identi- 
fying himself  with  the  Chronicle,  he  scarcely  could  have 
hoped  to  be  successful  in  gathering  the  information 
forming  the  basis  of  his  contribution.  He  had,  in  fact, 
arrived  on  an  early  morning  train,  and  successively  vis- 
ited every  physician  and  near  physician  and  surgeon  in 
the  city,  representing  to  each  that  he  was  a  medical  stu- 
dent desirous  of  finishing  his  studies  in  Leadville.  There 
were  scores  of  them  practicing  there  at  the  time,  and 
often  it  had  been  hinted  that  their  "practice"  had  not 
always  been  confined  to  the  living. 

Closely  scrutinizing  what  appeared  to  be  a  diploma, 

[160] 


hanging  unusually  high  in  the  office  of  one  of  the  busiest 
"doctors,"  he  took  advantage  of  a  temporary  absence  to 
slip  it  out  of  the  frame  and  into  his  pocket,  having  dis- 
covered it  was  simply  a  working  card  in  the  plasterers' 
union !  Other,  and  younger  men,  growing  confidentially 
communicative,  boasted  to  him  of  their  success  in  prac- 
ticing without  diploma,  license  or  examination,  while 
others  chuckled  over  fat  fees  earned  and  to  be  earned. 

The  mass  of  information  gathered,  in  the  early 
morning  hours  of  that  first  day,  showed  that  but  com- 
paratively few  of  the  hundred  alleged  doctors  were  en- 
titled to  practice,  and  that  the  community  was  being  out- 
rageously plundered  by  a  merciless  gang  of  quacks. 

Extended,  Stein's  story  filled  four  columns  of  about 
the  hottest  stuff  that  ever  found  place  in  a  daily  paper, 
embellished  with  a  fac  simile  reproduction,  in  double  col- 
umn width,  of  the  plasterer's  working  card.  The  article 
produced  a  distinct  sensation,  was  the  talk  of  the  town 
for  weeks  following,  and  directly  to  it  may  be  traced  the 
inspiration  for  the  laws  of  Colorado  now  governing  the 
practice  of  medicine  in  that  State. 

One  day,  soon  after  the  assassination  of  President 
Garfield,  a  quiet  little  woman,  with  mysterious  air,  called 
at  the  office  and  purchased  a  copy  of  each  issue  of  the 
paper  since  the  event.  She  explained  that  she  had  been 
in  the  mountains  for  a  fortnight,  and  had  not  heard  of 
the  tragedy  until  that  day. 

The  incident  attracted  the  particular  attention  only 
of  Stein.  He  reasoned  that  the  woman  had  some  pecul- 
iar motive  for  desiring  the  complete  file,  and  scented  a 
story  back  of  the  palpable  nervousness  and  wistfulness 
displayed.  Adroit  probing,  while  she  tarried  in  the  of- 
fice, developed  little,  but  sufficient  to  warrant  Stein  in 
following  the  woman  to  her  home  in  the  suburbs.  There, 
after  gaining  admission  by  a  ruse,  he  applied  the  "third 

[161] 


degree"  with  such  vigor  as  to  uncover  the  fact  that  the 
mysterious  woman  was  Mrs.  Guiteau,  wife  of  the  assas- 
sin of  the  Chief  Magistrate. 

Once  the  disclosure  was  made,  Stein's  abundant  evi- 
dence of  her  identity,  in  a  batch  of  letters  from  her  hus- 
band, supplemented  with  a  document  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary human  interest  at  the  time,  comprehending  a  large 
lithographed  marriage  license,  adorned  with  portraits  of 
the  high  contracting  parties,  her  recital  of  the  lives  and 
experiences  of  self  and  husband,  contained  a  vast  fund 
of  illuminating  information,  especially  regarding  Gui- 
teau himself,  about  whose  history  and  antecedents  the 
entire  nation  was  excessively  eager  to  learn. 

This  data,  plus  the  employment  of  Stein's  rare  imagi- 
native faculties,  culminated  in  a  story  of  extraordinary 
interest,  that  was  quickly  reproduced  in  every  newspaper 
of  the  land.  It,  of  course,  was  embellished  with  a  four- 
column  fac  simile  reproduction  of  the  marriage  license. 

It  was  a  clever  bit  of  journalistic  work,  affording 
wide  scope  for  Stein's  facile  pen.  But  he  ever  seemed 
more  at  home  in  the  realm  of  fiction,  albeit  he  never 
wrote  a  summer  story  that  was  not  sufficiently  plausible 
to  carry  conviction  to  the  mind  of  the  average  reader. 
Reference  to  a  few  such  creations  would  seem  to  fit  into 
this  chapter. 

Wandering  over  the  mountains  of  the  main  range, 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  he  stepped  upon  a  bit  of  boggy 
ground,  into  which  he  began  rapidly  to  sink,  and,  before 
realizing  what  had  happened,  he  found  himself  slipping 
down  a  slope  of  about  forty-five  degrees  inclination  into 
a  vast  underground  cavern,  with  arched  entrances  lead- 
ing into  it  from  all  sides,  like  cross-cuts  in  a  mine.  These, 
he  later  found,  led  into  other  vaulted  chambers,  of  which 
there  were  scores,  the  entire  excavated  area  compre- 
hending several  acres  in  extent.  Coursing  through  the 

[162] 


monster  cave  was  a  stream  of  water,  containing  an  al- 
most unbelievable  percentage  of  auriferous  mineral  in 
solution,  and  here  and  there  were  seen  the  bent  figures 
of  a  number  of  men  engaged  in  panning  the  gold.  From 
the  ceilings  of  the  caverns  stalactites  of  varying  lengths 
and  exquisite  formations  projected,  and,  under  a  more 
powerful  light  than  that  furnished  by  the  candles  in  the 
helmets  of  the  miners,  would  have  produced  a  dazzling 
effect.  Mineral-bearing  veins  were  clearly  defined  in 
the  enclosing  walls,  but,  in  the  absence  of  picks,  shovels 
and  drills,  no  effort  had  been  made  to  extract  the  un- 
measured wealth.  As  yet,  the  placer  gold  had  proven 
sufficiently  remunerative,  albeit  the  miners,  realizing 
that 

The  mill  will  never  run 

With  the  waters  that  have  passed, 

were  confining  themselves  to  the  recovery  of  the  placer 
gold  with  which  the  water  yet  flowed,  knowing  that  the 
quartz  gold  could  not  escape. 

Stein's  quickly  formed  purpose,  his  appearance  on 
the  scene  not  having  been  observed,  was  to  return  to  the 
surface  the  way  he  had  entered,  make  a  hasty  survey, 
set  his  stakes  and  hasten  to  the  land  office  to  file  dis- 
covery papers.  But  an  inspection  of  the  incline  showed 
the  hopelessness  of  getting  out  that  way.  No  other 
opening  was  visible,  and  finally  he  was  forced  to  the 
alternative  of  making  his  presence  known  to  the  canny 
operators  in  an  adjoining  cavern.  His  sudden  appear- 
ance in  their  midst  was  presumably  as  startling  to  them 
as  it  was  filled  with  apprehension  on  Stein's  part,  since 
he  had  no  means  of  knowing  what  sort  of  a  reception 
would  be  tendered  him.  Fortunately,  their  attitude  was 
not  belicose,  and  a  truce  was  quickly  arranged,  by  the 
terms  of  which  Stein  reserved  for  himself  the  privilege 

[163] 


of  the  caverns  as  a  "show  place,"  while  he  was  to  file 
upon  the  claim  in  the  names  of  the  original  discoverers. 
His  description  of  the  cave  occupied  more  than  a  page  of 
the  paper,  liberally  embellished  with  illustrations  of  the 
various  chambers,  with  stalactite  ceilings,  each  of  which 
was  given  a  suitable  name,  the  golden  rivulet  and  the 
figures  of  the  men  panning  the  glistening  sand. 

Fiction,  from  headlines  to  tail  piece !  But  so  realistic 
and  plausible,  in  general  and  in  particular,  as  to  dispel 
any  lingering  doubt  as  to  the  substantial  truth  of  the 
narrative.  Indeed,  later,  upon  application  of  the  pub- 
lishers, I  loaned  the  cuts,  and  each  successive  year  there- 
after, the  story  of  Stein's  marvelous  discovery  was 
featured  in  "Crofutt's  Guide,"  as  one  of  the  many  at- 
tractions of  Leadville. 

No  less  lurid  and  illuminating  was  a  later  discovery 
by  Stein  of  a  full-masted  minature  ship  imbedded  in  the 
solid  granite  walls  of  Battle  Mountain.  This  remark- 
able story,  with  even  less  warrant  in  fact,  was  not  only 
devoured  by  home  readers  with  excessive  avidity,  but 
attracted  the  attention  of  noted  scientists  throughout 
the  East,  some  of  whom  wrote  to  me  for  confirmation 
arid  additional  facts. 

An  episode  in  the  history  of  Leadville,  standing  out 
clearly  in  my  mind,  was  the  legal  execution  of  two  con- 
demned murderers,  Rosecranz  and  Gilbert,  in  which 
Stein  figured  most  disreputably.  Usually  the  simple  de- 
vice of  a  "drop"  is  employed,  but  upon  this  occasion  the 
Sheriff  was  persuaded  to  use  a  device  of  Stein's  con- 
ception, by  which  the  victims  were  to  be  lifted  into  the 
air  by  means  of  a  weight,  instead  of  being  allowed  to 
dangle  in  space  by  removal  of  the  platform  upon  which 
they  were  to  stand. 

With  hellish  design,  Stein  specified  a  weight  sufficient 
to  wrest  their  heads  from  their  bodies,  a  climax  that  he 

[164] 


contemplated  with  ghoulish  anticipation!  Fortunately, 
the  fact  dawned  upon  the  Sheriff  in  time  to  save  the 
heads,  if  not  the  necks,  of  the  miserable  creatures,  as 
well  as  to  preserve  the  name  of  Leadville  from  lasting 
reproach. 

After  Stein  left  Leadville,  I  lost  sight  of  him  for  an 
extended  period,  until  the  Associated  Press  finally 
brought  the  news  that  he  was  in  custody  at  Kansas  City, 
charged  with  the  murder  of  a  theatrical  manager  there 
who,  it  was  alleged,  had  become  involved  in  one  of 
Stein's  many  liasons.  He  was  tried,  convicted  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  hanged.  Powerful  home  influences  were 
then  brought  to  bear  to  save  him  from  the  gallows.  His 
distinguished  uncle,  Godlove  S.  Orth,  appeared  in  his 
behalf.  A  writ  of  supersedeas,  stay  of  execution,  ad- 
mission to  bail — the  familiar  story  where  wealth  and  po- 
litical influence  become  allies — and  Stein  was  again  free. 

I  knew  nothing  of  the  circumstances;  he  might  be 
innocent,  for  all  I  knew ;  but  he  must  live,  and  to  live,  he 
must  needs  work.  I  wired  for  him  to  return  to  his  for- 
mer position,  indulging  the  fond  hope  that  the  terrible 
ordeal  through  which  he  had  passed  would  have  had  a 
wholesome  effect;  that,  if  he  should  emerge  from  a  sec- 
ond trial  a  free  man,  he  possibly  might  in  time  live  down 
the  shame  and  ignominy  he  had  brought  upon  his  hon- 
ored name,  but  the  thought  was  as  hopeless  as  the  base- 
less fabric  of  a  dream. 

Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien 
As  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace. 

He  had  been  thoroughly  inoculated  with  the  virus 
of  crime,  and  I  soon  was  forced  to  recognize  the  painful 
fact  that  the  man  was  hopelessly  lost,  having  no  reserve 

[165] 


moral  character  to  found  a  reformation  upon,  and  I  de- 
termined to  dismiss  him.  He  had  given  sufficient  provo- 
cation in  an  indulgence  of  a  propensity  for  borrowing 
money,  but  he  broke  down  completely,  cried  like  a 
whipped  child,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  remain  until 
the  date  of  his  second  trial. 

I  reminded  him  that  his  creditors  all  over  town  were 
embarrassing  the  collector,  they  insisting  upon  offsetting 
claims  of  the  newspaper  with  Stein's  obligations ;  but  he 
parried  that  with  the  suggestion  that  he  was  expecting 
a  large  remittance  shortly,  and  that  with  it  he  would 
satisfy  all  his  creditors,  and  would  create  no  further 
debts. 

Technically  he  kept  this  promise,  but  the  funds  used 
in  clearing  off  debts  which  I  specified  were  borrowed 
from  others !  It  was  a  case  of  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul. 
Had  I  a  modicum  of  Stein's  facility  for  borrowing 
money,  I  should  have  no  fear  of  dicing  a  pauper.  Even 
after  his  criminal  instincts  had  begun  to  develop,  it  was 
found  easy  for  him  to  negotiate  loans  in  quarters  I 
should  have  hesitated  to  enter. 

His  second  trial  at  Kansas  City  resulted  in  acquittal. 
A  few  weeks  after  freedom  was  regained  the  Associated 
Press  brought  the  intelligence  that  he  had  robbed  his 
own  mother  of  money  and  valuable  jewels  and  decamped 
from  his  native  town. 

There  will  be  no  profit  in  pursuing  him  through  a 
subsequent  career  of  crime,  or  waste  time  in  guessing 
what  particular  jail  or  penitentiary  claims  him  for  a 
guest. 


[166] 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

DISCOVERY  OF  A  PRODIGY — AN  EDITOR  WITH  FIFTY-SIX 
OUNCES  OF  GRAY  MATTER 

I  one  day  received  by  mail  a  beautiful  tribute  to  the 
actor,  Sheridan,  signed  "L.  H.  B.,  Box  36,  General  De- 
livery." It  was  a  classic  in  its  way,  and  displayed  rather 
extraordinary  familiarity  with  actors  and  the  history  of 
the  stage. 

By  a  process  of  elimination  I  arrived  at  the  con- 
clusion that  the  contributor  must  be  a  certain  cultured 
lady  of  the  city,  Mrs.  L.  H.  Barnes,  and  I  at  once  ac- 
knowledged receipt  of  the  communication,  solicited  fur- 
ther contributions,  and  begged  the  privilege  of  helping 
her  to  seats  at  the  Opera  House  at  her  pleasure. 

Mrs.  Barnes  hastened  to  assure  me  she  was  not  the 
author  of  the  Sheridan  tribute.  Shortly  "L.  H.  B." 
wrote,  asking  for  two  passes  to  the  Opera  House.  I  was 
careful  to  locate  these  next  to  those  always  occupied  by 
myself,  that  I  might  become  satisfied  as  to  the  identity  of 
"L.  H.  B."  Two  very  young  men  occupied  the  seats. 
Repeated  a  fortnight  later,  and  two  impossible  old 
women  sat  next  me.  Next  time  I  remained  away,  in- 
structing the  ushers  to  note  who  occupied  the  seats.  No 
one — seats  vacant.  Then  I  wrote  to  "L.H.B."  that  I 
needed  an  understudy  for  city  editor,  asking  if  she  could 
recommend  any  one.  This  resulted  in  smoking  out 
"L.H.B.,"  no  longer  a  woman,  but  instead  a  frail  young 
man,  colorless  cheeks,  but  bright  eyes,  Luther  H.  Bick- 
ford  by  name,  salesman  for  a  local  coal  company,  born 

[167] 


in  Leadville,  never  beyond  the  confines  of  the  city,  and 
hence  his  acquaintance  with  matters  histrionic  extremely 
limited. 

But  there  was  the  Sheridan  tribute,  a  classic  in  stage 
literature,  and  disclosing  talent  almost  approaching 
genius. 

I  determined  to  give  him  trial,  and  never  had  oc- 
casion to  regret  having  done  so.  He  did  faithful,  con- 
scientious service  on  the  Chronicle,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  wrote  a  number  of  musical  comedies  and  extrava- 
ganzas, each  enriched  with  distinct  Rocky  Mountain 
flavor — plot,  time,  place  and  characters  readily  identified 
as  belonging  alone  to  Leadville.  Some  of  these  were 
staged  in  New  York,  bringing  the  author  prominently 
into  the  limelight.  Later  he  accepted  a  position  on  the 
San  Francisco  Chronicle,  and  speedily  gained  repute  as 
the  ablest  dramatic  critic  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  His 
literary  and  histrionic  fame  firmly  established,  it  was 
not  long  before  he  was  offered  the  position  of  managing 
editor  of  the  Sunday  edition  of  the  Chicago  Inter-Ocean, 
which  he  accepted  and  filled  until  his  death. 

As  clouds  may  arise 

To  darken  the  skies, 

And  the  bright  light  of  noon  may  grow  dimmer, 

In  the  first  flush  of  youth 

You  may  learn  this  great  truth, 

There's  a  good  many  holes  in  a  skimmer! 

Had  Sheridan  not  conveniently  died,  there  would 
have  been  no  occasion  for  that  delightful  tribute,  and 
"L.  H.  B."  might  have  indefinitely  continued  to  illumi- 
nate wagon  bills  of  a  coal  company,  instead  of  familiar 
legends  on  favorite  librettos.  The  moral  which  the 
youthful  reader  may  glean  from  my  poor  tribute  to  Bick- 

[168] 


JOHN    ARK  INS  JAMES     M.     BfRXELL 

One  of  the   Founders  of  the  One  of  the   Founders  of  the 

Leadville   Evening  Chronicle  Leadville  Evening-  Chronicle 

JACOB    HEIMBERGER  LUTE     B.     BICKFORD  MARK    L.    GOLDENBERG 

Business   Manager  Leadville        City    Editor    Leadville        Business    Manager    Leadville 
Evening    Chronicle  Herald-Democrat  Herald-Democrat 

COL.    JOHN    A.    JOYCE  JAMES   M.   KNIGHT 

Managing  Editor  Leadville  Business   Manager   Leadville 

Herald-Democrat  Herald-Democrat 


ford  is  that  one  cannot  judge  what's  in  a  boy  until  he  is 
given  an  opportunity.    Now,  as  ever,  is  it  true, 

Tis  neither  wealth  or  rank  or  state, 
But  git-up-and-git  that  makes  men  great. 

I  neither  had  ambition  nor  time  to  conduct  a  news- 
paper kindergarten.  Lute  Bickford  came  to  me  by 
chance,  as  did  another  in  the  person  of  Robert  Gauss. 
I  had  known  the  latter  previously  as  a  struggling  young 
lawyer  in  Missouri.  He  reached  Leadville  in  1883, 
stranded,  after  an  unsuccessful  jaunt  through  the  State. 
I  offered  him  the  position  of  assistant  editor.  His  prog- 
ress was  slow,  but  his  work  was  full  of  promise,  and 
in  time  he  was  promoted  to  the  managing  editor's  desk. 
As  in  the  case  of  Bickford,  he  needed  only  opportunity 
to  develop  the  best  that  was  in  him.  After  two  years' 
service  he  went  to  Denver,  and  for  twenty-nine  years 
following  was  the  chief  editorial  writer  on  the  Repub- 
lican of  that  city.  He  died  suddenly  in  January,  1913, 
by  universal  acclaim  conceded  to  be  the  ablest  editorial 
commentator  the  State  ever  produced.  But  he  was  more 
than  that.  He  played  a  very  important  part  in  the  devel- 
opment of  agriculture  on  the  semi-arid  plains.  Long 
before  the  people  of  Colorado  began  to  realize  what  an 
empire  of  agricultural  wealth  lay  at  their  doors  to  the 
eastward,  Mr.  Gauss,  through  his  writings,  and  by  act- 
ual experimental  work,  demonstrated  that  the  dry  lands 
could  be  made  productive  without  irrigation.  He,  of 
course,  was  laughed  at,  but  his  optimism  never  flagged, 
and  he  lived  to  witness  fruition  of  his  persistent  preach- 
ing. He  bequeathed  his  brain  to  science.  Its  weight 
was  found  to  be  55.7  ounces,  or  three  ounces  heavier 
than  that  of  his  grandfather,  the  famous  German  mathe- 
matician, Karl  Frederick  Gauss.  In  weight  it  equalled 

[169] 


a  number,  and  exceeded  a  few,  of  the  most  noted  men  in 
history — Cuvier,  Abercombie,  Lord  Byron,  Schiller 
and  Dante. 

Thirty  consecutive  years*  service  without  a  holiday 
is  the  record  of  another  graduate  of  the  school  of  jour- 
nalism claiming  the  Chronicle  for  Alma  Mater.  The 
work  of  few  editors,  even  of  metropolitan  journals,  will 
compare  with  that  of  Henry  Butler,  who,  before  coming 
to  me,  had  never  had  a  day's  experience.  Clean,  whole- 
some, vigorous,  forceful  and  effective,  his  writings  ap- 
peal to  the  cultured  taste  as  well  as  sound  judgment  of 
the  discriminative  reader.  He  has  given  the  best  years 
of  his  life  to  the  creation  and  maintenance  of  a  position 
— still  at  the  desk  where  I  placed  him  three  decades  ago 
— another  striking  figure  of  the  self-made  man. 

Col.  Marble  and  his  petite  wife,  Callie  Bonnie  Mar- 
ble, formerly  of  Philadelphia,  both  liberally  endowed 
with  the  divine  afflatus  of  poesy,  and  capital  builders  of 
short  stories,  lent  to  the  paper  its  brightest  flashes  of  wit 
and  wisdom.  They  worked  side  by  side,  sympathizing 
with  each  others'  labor,  the  one  a  tower  of  strength  to 
the  other.  Their  team  work  was  ever  harmonious,  often- 
times brilliant,  rarely  indifferent.  It  indeed  was  a 
unique  combination  of  rare  talent. 

A  "live  wire"  in  journalism,  who,  perhaps,  to  a 
greater  extent  than  any  other,  stamped  his  strong  per- 
sonality upon  the  local  and  news  pages  of  the  Chronicle 
and  the  Herald  Democrat,  was  Edward  D.  Cowan,  one 
of  the  most  accomplished  all-around  newspaper  men  I 
ever  had  the  privilege  of  knowing.  Of  myself,  I  should 
not  like  to  have  it  said  that  I  am  "first  of  all  an  accom- 
plished nawspaper  man,"  but  Cowan  enjoyed  that  dis- 
tinction. He  gained  international  fame,  after  his  Lead- 
ville  career,  in  following  that  peerless  statesman,  James 
G.  Blaine,  to  Europe,  in  the  early  80's,  and  reporting  his 

[170] 


every  movement  all  over  the  continent  for  the  Chicago 
Record-Herald.  For  this  he  was  excoriated  by  the 
higher  class  journals  throughout  the  country.  But  the 
nation-wide  "roast"  didn't  give  Cowan  a  bad  half  hour. 
Indeed,  he  rather  enjoyed  the  notoriety,  justifying  him- 
self with  the  plea  that  he  was  simply  obeying  instructions 
of  his  employer.  In  the  early  90's  he  was  sent  to  Eng- 
land, to  manage  the  London  edition  of  the  New  York 
Herald,  later  retiring  to  a  ranch  in  the  Sound  section 
of  the  Northwest,  becoming  a  political  factor  of  no  small 
importance  at  Seattle.  Cowan  was  a  most  lovable  chap. 
The  only  way  to  avoid  liking  him  was  to  keep  away  from 
him. 


[171] 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

COL.  JOYCE  OF  INSANE  ASYLUM  AND  PRISON  FAME 
ASCENDS  THE  TRIPOD 

The  reflective  reader  will  recall  my  parting  with  Col. 
John  A.  Joyce,  of  whisky  ring  fame,  at  the  portal  of  the 
Missouri  Penitentiary  at  Jefferson  City,  back  in  76. 
Ten  years  later  I  was  mystified  by  the  receipt  of  a  tel- 
egram from  him,  dated  at  Glenwood  Springs,  Colorado, 
where  he  had  been  a  guest  at  a  banquet  given  to  com- 
memorate the  completion  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Railway  to  that  point.  The  message  was  a  characteristic 
epigram :  "I  am  coming  over  to  sweep  out  your  office.*' 
Next  day  he  stalked  in,  as  magnificent  a  personality  as 
ever  I  had  beheld,  unless  I  except  the  Beadle  in  the  Bank 
of  England.  Straight  as  an  arrow,  with  eyes  that  fairly 
danced  in  their  brilliancy,  cheeks  as  rosy  as  those  of  a 
country  maiden,  but  hair  as  white  as  the  snow  that 
mantled  Mount  Massive,  changed  from  the  glossy  black 
of  the  '70's  by  two  years'  confinement. 

His  story  was  brief.  Ten  years  of  hilarious  living 
at  the  national  capital  was  telling  upon  him.  He  desired 
to  place  half  a  continent  between  himself  and  his  boon 
companions.  Moreover,  he  was  charmed  with  Colorado, 
and  wanted  to  begin  life  anew  amidst  the  grandeur  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  where  he  could  draw  strength 
and  inspiration  from  the  eternal  hills.  He  never  had 
worked  under  a  "boss,"  but  loved  me  and  was  not  afraid. 

Col.  Joyce  would  have  been  considered  an  acquisition 
to  any  journal  in  the  land.  He  could  have  commanded 
any  salary  within  reason  on  any  of  the  metropolitan 

[172] 


journals.  His  name  alone  would  be  worth  more  than 
I  should  have  to  pay  for  it.  But,  and  I  candidly  said  it, 
Leadville  was  not  just  the  place  in  which  to  reform  a 
wine  bibber.  The  office  of  the  Herald  Democrat  and 
the  Chronicle  had  won  no  laurels  as  a  Keeley  cure.  Sa- 
loons were  as  numerous  as  notaries  public,  and  the  side- 
walks leading  to  them  were  as  level  as  a  floor.  Albeit 
I  had  some  ambition  to  sleep  o'  night. 

However,  after  a  rather  protracted  heart-to-heart 
talk,  I  engaged  the  Colonel  as  chief  editorial  writer,  with 
the  privilege  to  him  of  dropping  into  poesy  at  will  on 
the  local  side  of  the  papers.  As  an  evidence  of  his  firm 
determination  to  break  away  from  "red  licker"  as  a  reg- 
ular diet,  John  suggested  that  we  step  down  to  the  Board 
of  Trade  and  have  a  cocktail.  Over  this  was  drunk  his 
favorite  toast,  "Well,  here's  to  our  noble  selves !  There 
are  few  like  us,  and — as  few  like  us !" 

For  a  year  Col.  Joyce  abstained  from  drink,  and  did 
the  best  pen  work  of  his  life.  At  no  time  were  the  edi- 
torial pages  of  my  paper  read  with  greater  zest,  pleasure, 
satisfaction  and  profit.  Then  he  fell!  And 

What  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen. 

A  single  glance  at  the  Colonel,  one  day  as  I  entered 
the  office,  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  me  that  he  could  not  be 
depended  upon  to  prepare  editorials  for  the  morning 
issue.  I  took  his  desk,  saying  nothing.  All  through  the 
long  night  John  gravitated  between  the  office  and  the 
Texas  House,  a  noted  gambling  hell,  upon  each  return 
quietly  handing  me  a  batch  of  manuscript.  His  contri- 
butions, hung  upon  a  spindle  in  his  presence  out  of  re- 
spect for  the  author,  were  inspected  at  my  leisure  next 
day,  disclosing  not  a  single  scrap  in  prose!  There  was 
"An  Apostrophe  to  the  Moon,"  "A  Tribute  to  my  Land- 

[173] 


lady,"  a  sonnet  dedicated  to  "The  Sylph  of  My  Neigh- 
bor's Kitchen,"  "Lines  on  a  Stage  Horse,"  "The  Red- 
Eyed  Blue-Haired  Biscuit- Shover  of  the  Vendome,"  and 
much  more  near  poetic  rot  that  only  could  emanate  from 
a  whisky-muddled  brain.  Next  day  I  procured  a  one- 
way ticket  to  Washington,  and  sorrowfully  handed  it  to 
John.  My  emotions  at  the  moment  may  be  summed  up 
in  the  language  of  that  beautiful  stanza  from  the  "Uni- 
versal Prayer"  of  Pope : 

"Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe, 
To  hide  the  fault  I  see; 
That  mercy  I  to  others  show, 
That  mercy  show  to  me." 

After  Colonel  Joyce's  death,  which  occurred  in 
Washington  City  in  March,  1915,  it  was  found  that  he 
not  only  had  written  his  epitaph  in  verse,  but  also  had 
contrived  his  last  will  and  testament  into  a  jingle  of  two 
stanzas,  a  singularly  unique  document: 

To  my  daughters,  Libbie  and  Florence 
In  equal  proportions  to  share, 

I  give  all  cash  and  property, 

When  my  spirit  is  soaring  in  air. 

And  appoint  Mrs.  James  J.  Lampton 
To  execute  this,  my  last  will, 

When  I  rest  'neath  the  bloomy  flowers 
In  Lot  444  on  Oak  Hill. 

The  distinguished  Western  author  and  poet,  Mary 
Hallock  Foote,  was  for  a  long  time  domiciled  in  Lead- 
ville,  where  she  came  to  procure  local  color  for  those 
breezy  Rocky  Mountain  stories  that  contributed  so  much 
to  her  fame.  Her  mission  did  not  permit  her  to  con- 
tribute regularly  to  the  columns  of  my  papers,  but  such 


[174] 


desultory  work  as  she  was  at  liberty  to  do  was  highly 
appreciated  by  their  more  cultured  clientele.  Two  ro- 
mances, scenes  and  characters  from  real  life  in  Lead- 
ville,  had  a  wide  reading — "The  Led-Horse  Claim"  and 
"The  Last  Assembly  Ball." 


[175] 


CHAPTER  XL. 

VIVIAN,  CREATOR  OF  THE  BENEVOLENT  ORDER  OF  ELKS, 
JOINS  THE  LOCAL  STAFF 

For  a  brief  period,  on  the  local  staff  of  the  Chronicle, 
Charley  Vivian  did  no  work  requiring  blue  penciling. 
He  was  its  dramatic  critic,  and  his  contributions  dis- 
played painstaking,  conscientious  effort.  An  actor  by 
profession,  he  was  able  to  inject  many  pleasing  side 
lights  into  his  reviews  and  criticisms.  He  also  had 
charge  of  the  sporting  department,  and  occasionally 
favored  the  paper  with  acceptable  verse,  having  distinct 
local  color.  Later  he  conceived  the  idea  of  a  great  secret 
society — the  Benevolent  Protective  Order  of  Elks — 
wrote  the  manual  for  it,  organized  the  first  lodge,  and 
lived  to  see  it  spread  into  every  State  in  the  Union,  its 
membership  mounting  into  the  hundreds  of  thousands. 
He  died  in  Leadville,  and  was  followed  to  his  last  rest- 
ing place  in  Evergreen  by  an  immense  throng,  including 
many  notables,  but  largely  composed  of  his  genuinely 
sorrowing  friends  of  the  press  and  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession. 

Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began ; 
Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
And  even  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side. 

Two  decades  he  rested  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
mountains  he  loved  so  much ;  then  his  remains  were  dis- 
interred and  removed  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  under  the 
auspices  of  a  committee  of  the  national  body  represent- 

[176] 


THE    MILKY    WAV 
How    the    Babies    Were    Served    in    the    Upper    Altitudes    in    the    Eafly    Day 

ARCHITECTURAL    ACTIVITIES 
A    Lumber  Train   Ready   to   Start   for   the   High    Places 

DIFFICULTIES    OF   TRAVEL 
An   Improvised  Foot   Bridge   Across  an   Ice  Crevice 


ing  the  Benevolent  Protective  Order  of  Elks.  A  beauti- 
ful and  appropriate  shaft  marks  the  spot  in  the  family 
burying  ground  in  Ohio's  capital,  while  his  portrait 
graces  the  Assembly  room  of  nearly  every  Elks  Lodge 
in  the  nation. 

James  McCarthy  filled  a  short  engagement  on  the 
hyphenated  dailies,  but  he  proved  a  distinctive  misfit 
His  career  with  me  may  be  said  to  have  been  brief  and 
brilliant.  Over  the  pen  name  of  "Fitz  Mac"  he  had 
earned  a  unique  place  in  Western  journalism  as  short 
story  writer,  poet,  character  delineator,  interviewer,  po- 
litical philosopher  and  commentator.  But  as  the  respon- 
sible head  of  a  department  on  a  daily  paper  he  was  a 
sore  disappointment.  He  was  an  inspirational  chap,  and 
when  the  divine  afflatus  struck  him,  he  was  good  for 
an  entire  page  of  most  acceptable  matter ;  but  Alas !  and 
Alack !  when  not  in  the  mood  his  column  was  a  fathom- 
less void.  He  proved  himself  wholly  unequal  to  the  ex- 
actions of  a  given  space  per  diem,  and  rejoiced  over  be- 
ing relieved  of  the  irksome  responsibility.  There  never 
was  a  man  on  the  staff  of  any  of  my  newspapers  who 
could  fill  his  place,  and  yet  he  was  incapable  or  unwilling 
to  perform  the  duties  of  the  least  important  of  them. 

I  believe  I  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the  first 
American  newspaper  manager  to  employ  a  female  re- 
porter. At  all  events,  the  results  of  the  experiment  were 
questioned  by  the  contemporary  press  of  the  day.  Kate 
Williams  was  the  girl,  and  she  made  good  on  every  as- 
signment. The  first  was  to  report  a  race  meeting,  and 
her  failure  was  freely  predicted.  But  the  unexpected 
happened,  and,  instead  of  being  helpless  on  the  ground, 
amongst  the  touts,  the  ticket  and  sheet-writers,  solicitors 
and  rurners,  starters  and  judges,  she  had  a  hundred  men 
running  to  her  with  news  of  the  track  and  the  ponies 
and  the  betting  game,  that  the  average  male  reporters 

[177] 


had  to  rustle  for.  She  got  all  that  was  to  be  had,  put  it 
in  good  English,  got  it  on  the  wire  in  time,  and  in  all 
respects  vindicated  my  judgment  as  to  her  capacity. 
Leadville  men,  justly  proud  of  her,  were  ever  ready  to 
lend  a  hand. 

I  have  felt  warranted  in  taking  this  side-step,  at  this 
juncture,  in  order  to  pay  brief  tribute  to  the  earnest, 
faithful,  loyal,  never-flagging  members  of  the  editorial 
staff,  who  almost  lost  their  identity  in  patient,  contin- 
uous devotion  to  my  interests  and  their  chosen  mission. 
Their  labors  were  not  confined  to  the  Evening  Chronicle, 
however,  for,  as  soon  will  be  seen,  I  did  not  content  my- 
self with  the  building  up  of  one  great  newspaper. 


[178] 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  CHRONICLE  ABSORBS  DEMOCRAT  AND  HERALD, 
BECOMING  A  GRINDING  MONOPOLY 

Emboldened  by  the  immediate  success  of  the  Chron- 
icle, another  afternoon  journal,  the  Times,  was  launched 
in  the  early  summer  of  1879.  By  the  demise  of  the 
Eclipse  and  the  Reveille,  the  morning  field  was  open  to 
the  projectors  of  the  Times,  but  for  some  inscrutible 
reason  they  chose  to  enter  my  domain,  thus  inviting  still 
other  competitors.  It  was  neither  logical  nor  business- 
like to  attempt  successfully  to  compete  with  an  estab- 
lished journal,  but  it  required  three  months*  experience, 
and  all  kinds  of  financial  sacrifice,  to  demonstrate  the 
blunder. 

The  suspension  of  the  Times  did  not  discourage 
others  from  entering  the  rich  journalistic  field,  and  be- 
fore the  end  of  the  year  two  large  morning  papers 
started  upon  a  tempestuous  career. 

A  syndicate  of  strong  local  capitalists  were  sponsers 
for  the  Herald,  a  Republican  journal;  while  an  equally 
formidable  syndicate  of  Denver  men,  headed  by  Gov. 
W.  A.  H.  Loveland,  founded  the  Democrat.  Both  were 
provided  with  modern  plants,  complete  in  all  details. 
Capable  writers,  also,  were  imported.  The  population 
had  increased  to  60,000.  The  Associated  Press  had  de- 
cided to  grant  three  exclusive  franchises,  one  to  each  of 
the  existing  papers,  the  Chronicle,  the  Herald  and  the 
Democrat.  Wire  facilities  were  now  sufficient  to  carry 
the  full  news  report  of  that  Association. 

The  first  election  for  municipal  offices  was  carried 

[179] 


by  the  Republicans,  and  the  Herald,  which  had  supported 
the  ticket,  was  not  only  awarded  the  city  printing,  but 
its  manager,  Captain  R.  G.  Dill,  was  given  the  fat  berth 
of  City  Clerk.  This  obvious  discrimination  occurred  a 
second  time,  but  the  Herald  was  not  again  the  bene- 
ficiary. 

Thus,  before  the  close  of  Leadville's  first  year,  the 
journalistic  field  was  wholly  filled  and  properly  propor- 
tioned, each  of  the  two  great  parties  supplied  with  an 
organ,  the  Chronicle  remaining  a  free  lance,  with  strong 
Republican  leanings.  It  was,  in  fact,  as  loyal  to  Repub- 
lican tenets  as  was  the  Herald,  the  only  difference  being 
that  the  latter  was  owned  by  and  conducted  in  the  inter- 
est of  politicians,  while  the  Chronicle  was  "owned  by 
its  owner." 

For  two  years  the  situation  remained  practically  un- 
changed, but  early  in  1883  the  Democrat  began  to  ex- 
hibit that  "tired  feeling."  Owing  to  bad  management 
or  internal  bickerings  in  its  Board  of  Directors,  it  be- 
came involved  in  debt,  and  finally  was  sold  to  satisfy 
its  creditors.  I  was  the  only  bona  fide  bidder,  and  when 
my  offer  reached  a  figure  corresponding  with  its  secured 
and  floating  debts,  its  was  knocked  off  to  me. 

For  a  time  I  was  compelled  to  publish  the  two  papers, 
morning  and  evening,  in  offices  widely  separated,  the 
Chronicle  building  being  too  small  to  house  the  large 
printing  plant  of  the  Democrat,  but  soon  I  succeeded  in 
finding  spacious  quarters  for  the  dual  dailies  in  the  State 
Armory,  where  their  publication  has  continued  down  to 
this  hour. 

It  soon  was  made  obvious  that  my  journalistic  career 
in  Leadville,  uninterruptedly  successful  thus  far,  was 
to  meet  with  a  check.  Had  it  been  a  simple  case  of  legit- 
imate competition  for  business  in  the  morning  field,  I 
should  have  had  no  cause  for  apprehension  as  to  the 

[180] 


MRS.   GEO.   GOLDTHWAITE 
Authoress    and    Dramatist 


MRS.     FLORA     BURNELL 
An  Early   Leadville  Society  Matron 


MRS.    W.    S.    WARD 
Early  Leader  of   Leadville   Society 


MRS.    DAVID    G.    MILLER 

Leader  in  Early   Leadville 

Society 


MRS.  FRANK   G.    BULKLEY 
Popular   Leadville    Society   Matron 


outcome.  But  it  was  a  brace  game  I  was  up  against,  and 
when  the  dice  are  loaded  the  honest  player  stands  little 
show  of  winning  the  other  fellow's  money  or  saving  his 
own.  The  Herald  had  been  acquired  by  the  late  Senator 
H.  A.  W.  Tabor,  seven  times  a  millionaire,  and  was  be- 
ing run  in  the  interest  of  that  gentleman's  ambition  to 
be  Governor  of  the  State.  It  mattered  little  to  him  or  to 
his  managers  whether  the  paper  earned  dividends,  or 
even  paid  expenses.  The  weekly  deficit  was  wiped  out 
with  a  draft  on  "the  old  man."  Under  such  conditions, 
prices  of  advertising,  for  job  printing  and  blank-book 
making  were  slaughtered  by  the  manager  of  the  Herald, 
whose  only  interest  was  to  make  the  paper  appear  to  be 
well  patronized.  The  advertiser  was  not  aware  of  the 
conditions  that  had  obtained,  nor  was  it  an  easy  task  to 
convince  him  that  he  should  pay  more  for  space  in  the 
Democrat  than  in  the  Herald.  The  contest  narrowed 
down  to  a  struggle  between  my  practical  knowledge  of 
every  ramification  of  the  publishing  business,  my  expe- 
rience, and  the  closest  personal  application,  and  Tabor's 
millions.  It  was  a  losing  business  for  him  from  the  in- 
ception of  the  competition,  but  he  could  afford  to  lose. 
After  a  time  it  also  began  to  be  a  losing  business  for  me, 
and  it  was  obvious  I  could  not  stand  it  long.  There  is 
nothing  that  absorbs  cash  so  rapidly  as  a  newspaper. 
The  losses,  when  they  occur  at  all,  are  apt  to  be  heavy. 
By  the  summer  of  1883  I  had  exhausted  all  I  had  earned 
with  the  Chronicle,  and  owed  the  Carbonate  National 
Bank  $26,000.  The  situation  was  growing  desperate, 
and,  when  I  began  to  doubt  the  final  outcome,  I  went  to 
Dr.  D.  H.  Dougan,  President  of  the  bank,  and  proposed 
to  him,  my  principal  creditor,  that  I  make  an  assignment 
and  go  back  to  setting  type.  This  met  with  a  wholly 
unexpected  and  altogether  vigorous  negative.  His  re- 
sponse was :  "Not  by  a  d sight,  Davis !  Anybody 


[181] 


who  says  you'll  not  pull  through  is  a  liar,  and  I  can  whip 
him!  How  much  more  do  you  want?" 

Notwithstanding  my  obligation  to  the  bank,  naught 
but  my  note  was  exacted,  and  I  look  back  with  pride  upon 
the  fact  that  a  mortgage  was  never  recorded  against  my 
property. 

With  the  assurance  of  continued  backing,  I  put  the 
possibility  of  failure  behind  me,  and  buckled  down  to 
work  again. 

In  the  meantime,  Tabor's  gubernatorial  aspirations 
had  been  denied;  he  had  advanced  $150,000  in  two  years 
to  keep  his  newspaper  afloat,  and  had  no  taste  for  con- 
tinuing the  expensive  luxury. 

I  had  made  overtures  to  him,  but  because  I  had  op- 
posed his  political  ambitions,  he  refused  to  consider  a 
sale  to  me. 

However,  what  I  had  failed  to  accomplish  directly, 
I  achieved  in  another  way,  by  employing  James  Mc- 
Carthy ("Fitz  Mac")  to  turn  the  trick.  He  had  there- 
tofore declined  all  tenders  of  positions  on  the  press  of 
the  State,  and  when  he  offered  his  services  as  managing 
editor  of  the  Herald,  they  were  eagerly  accepted.  In 
due  time  he  made  an  acceptable  offer  for  the  property, 
and  it  was  turned  over  to  him.  Twenty  minutes  after 
the  deal  was  closed  and  the  consideration  passed,  he  re- 
conveyed  it  to  me — to  my  great  relief  and  Tabor's  ex- 
treme disgust.  The  latter  never  forgave  Fitz  Mac  for 
the  "Irish  trick"  played  on  him. 

The  printing  plants  of  the  defunct  Eclipse,  the  Re- 
veille and  the  Times  had  been  absorbed  by  the  Democrat 
and  the  Herald.  By  the  acquisition  of  the  two  latter,  I 
had  come  into  possession  of  the  presses,  engines,  boilers, 
type  and  other  appliances  of  six  daily  newspapers,  in- 
cluding thirteen  base  burner  stoves!  The  combined 
plunder  represented  a  cash  outlay  exceeding  one  hundred 

[182] 


thousand  dollars,  plus  paper  consumed  and  labor  ex- 
pense lost,  monuments  to  the  ambition  of  individual  man 
and  the  impractical  ideas  of  inexperienced  boards  of 
directors ! 

I  had  survived  them  all  simply  by  the  steady  and 
persistent  pursuit  of  ordinary  common-sense  methods. 
While  boards  of  directors  were  debating  whether  an 
obviously  proper  thing  should  be  done,  I  did  it.  I  did 
unto  others  what  they  would  have  done  unto  me,  and  I 
"did  it  fust."  That  was  all. 

Remoteness  from  market  made  most  of  the  junk 
unsalable,  and  a  large  part  of  it  went  into  the  scrap  heap. 
In  addition  to  this  contribution  to  the  wrong  side  of 
profit  and  loss  account,  I  found  myself  saddled  with 
three  Associated  Press  franchises,  when  only  two  were 
required.  Monthly  tolls  on  each,  abnormally  high,  had  to 
be  met,  or  the  surplus  franchise  would  lapse  and  be  re- 
sold. 

For  some  time  my  monthly  contribution  to  the  great- 
est monopoly  of  the  century — the  monopoly  of  the  news 
of  the  world — exceeded  that  of  all  the  newspapers  of  the 
capital.  But  Leadville,  at  that  time,  was  larger  than 
Denver — promised,  indeed,  to  distance  it  in  population, 
and  was  already  bidding  for  the  State  Capital.  In  the 
conventions  of  the  two  great  parties,  in  '79-'80,  Lake 
County's  representation  exceeded  that  of  Arapahoe.  As 
long  as  I  could  maintain  the  franchises,  successful  op- 
position to  my  morning  and  evening  journals  was  not 
possible.  In  the  years  that  followed  twenty-seven  dis- 
tinct attempts  were  made  to  do  this  without  the  Asso- 
ciated Press  news,  and  all  found  eternal  rest  in  the  same 
burying  ground !  Finally  I  made  an  appeal  to  the  Asso- 
sociated  Press  to  cancel  one  of  the  franchises.  This, 
with  the  cordial  fraternal  help  of  the  managers  of  the 
Denver  newspapers,  was  successful.  The  surplus  fran- 

[183] 


chise  was  killed,  but  the  tolls  were  added  to  those  already 
being  paid  by  the  Denver  press !  This  unlocked  for  and 
unmerited  burden  was  taken  up  with  deep  murmurings. 
But  the  equity  involved  was  indisputable.  I  now  had 
complete  possession  of  the  field,  and  was  not  seriously 
opposed.  When,  from  time  to  time,  the  afternoon  field 
was  invaded,  I  threw  all  of  my  energy  into  the  Evening 
Chronicle;  when  the  morning  field  was  undertaken,  the 
Herald  Democrat  had  the  major  attention  of  self  and 
staff.  It  was  never  a  question  of  capital — a  daily  paper 
without  Associated  Press  news  was  what  Senator  In- 
galls  would  have  denominated  "a  d n  barren  ideal- 
ity." The  sea  upon  which  I  was  embarked,  occasionally 
placid,  nevertheless  became  tempestuous  at  times,  and, 
to  successfully  ride  the  storm  that  periodically  impended, 
called  for  the  exercise  of  all  the  intelligence,  experience, 
tact,  moral  and  physical  courage  which  I  possessed.  In 
subsequent  treatment  of  other  themes  of  greater  human 
interest  my  struggles  will  to  a  greater  or  lesser  degree 
necessarily  be  accentuated. 


[184] 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

HUMAN   LIFE   THE   CHEAPEST   COMMODITY   IN   THE 
LOCAL  MARKET — SHAMEFUL  CORRUPTION 

For  a  number  of  years  nothing  was  so  cheap  in  Lead- 
ville  as  human  life.  Nor  was  the  murderous  instinct 
confined  to  the  lower  and  less  cultivated  element  of  the 
heterogeneous  poplation.  The  bars  were  down  and  free 
rein  was  given  to  promiscuous  blood-letting.  The  history 
of  crime  easily  would  fill  a  large  volume.  One  homicide 
had  particular  significance  to  me,  since  a  libel  suit  for 
$50,000  damages  grew  out  of  it.  In  the  spring  of  1883 
a  most  brutal  and  unprovoked  murder  was  committed 
in  the  heart  of  the  city  by  one  T.  C.  Early,  a  fiery  South- 
erner and  a  lawyer  of  some  considerable  local  prom- 
inence, his  victim  being  Patrolman  Townsend,  with 
whom  he  had  been  quarreling  over  some  trivial  matter. 

Editorially  and  otherwise,  in  both  of  my  papers,  I 
denounced  the  crime  in  fitting  terms  and  demanded  swift 
punishment.  So  bitter  was  my  denunciation  of  the 
crime,  and  so  persistent  my  pursuit  of  the  perpetrator, 
that  he  had  little  difficulty  in  procuring  a  change  of 
venue  to  Summit  County,  the  State's  attorney  being 
forced  to  admit  that  a  fair  trial  in  Leadville  was  not 
obtainable. 

The  hearing  was  manifestly  so  gross  a  perversion  of 
justice  that  I  hesitated  not  to  repeat  the  declaration  often 
made  in  my  papers,  even  after  the  acquittal  of  the  ac- 
cused, that  it  nevertheless  was  a  cold-blooded,  inexcus- 
able murder,  without  shadow  of  provocation.  It  had 
been  so  universally  regarded  in  the  community  that 

[185] 


Early  realized  he  never  could  hope  to  live  it  down,  and 
at  once  upon  his  release  from  confinement  he  located  in 
the  practice  of  law  in  Denver. 

In  the  District  Court  of  that  city  he  speedily  filed 
an  action  against  me  for  libel,  fixing  the  damages  at 
$50,000. 

I  realized  that  it  was  a  bluff,  pure  and  simple,  an  at- 
tempt to  speculate  upon  his  bankrupt  reputation  in  a 
community  where  he  was  unknown,  and  that  he  never 
would  bring  the  case  to  trial.  However,  I  was  obliged 
to  meet  the  issue  and  promptly  prepared  to  do  so  by  re- 
taining Judge  Markham,  later  a  member  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  to  file  an  answer,  setting  up  the  truth  of  my  alle- 
gations as  a  defense,  permissable  under  the  statutes.  I 
had  no  further  need  of  counsel.  I  was  abundantly  forti- 
fied, having  reliable  witnesses  to  prove  that  the  jury 
trying  the  case,  as  well  as  the  Sheriff  who  summoned  it, 
had  been  bribed.  I  also  was  prepared  to  prove  that  the 
wife  of  the  prisoner  visited  him  while  in  jail  at  Lead- 
•ville,  wheeling  into  the  prison  a  baby  carriage  contain- 
ing an  infant,  and  that  upon  leaving  she  took  with  her 
the  coat  of  her  husband,  concealed  beneath  the  mattress. 
Taking  the  garment  out  into  the  suburbs  and  hanging  it 
upon  a  tree,  she  shot  a  hole  through  the  pocket,  and  this 
provided  an  "exhibit"  upon  which  counsel  based  the  plea 
that  the  crime  could  not  have  been  premeditated,  since 
Early  had  not  even  drawn  a  weapon.  This  information 
reached  me  through  the  medium  of  a  neighbor  whom 
Mrs.  Early  invited  to  accompany  her  in  her  evidence- 
producing  mission. 

With  such  facts  as  these  at  my  command  I  welcomed 
the  action,  since  it  promised  to  afford  me  an  opportunity 
of  justifying  my  attitude  and  exposing  the  shameless 
methods  tolerated  by  the  trial  court.  Thus  prepared  I 
awaited  Early's  next  move. 

[186] 


More  than  a  year  passed  before  he  made  any  attempt 
to  have  the  case  set  for  trial.  Finally,  in  March  of  1884, 
immediately  upon  the  adjournment  of  the  Republican 
State  Convention,  he  had  the  hearing  set  for  the  day  the 
National  Republican  Convention  of  that  year  was  to 
meet  in  Chicago,  in  June  following.  I  had  been  chosen  a 
delegate-at-large  to  the  latter  convention,  and  Early 
counted  upon  the  difficulty  I  should  have  in  securing  a 
postponement,  since  courts  are  not  in  the  habit  of  recog- 
nizing political  exigencies.  His  purpose  was  to  em- 
barrass me  by  keeping  me  away  from  Chicago.  I  suc- 
ceeded, nevertheless,  in  securing  a  continuance  for  thirty 
days.  The  case  was  docketed  for  a  certain  Monday 
morning  at  10  o'clock,  yet  I  permitted  the  day  to  ap- 
proach without  employing  counsel  or  even  preparing  to 
put  in  an  appearance  myself,  although  at  that  time  a 
judgment  against  me  for  the  entire  amount  claimed 
would  have  been  collectable.  On  the  Sunday  afternoon 
preceding  the  day  of  trial  I  sent  for  the  lawyer  who  had 
defended  Early  in  the  Summit  County  Court,  who  per- 
sonally had  done  the  dirty  work  that  resulted  in  his  ac- 
quittal. He  responded  to  my  summons,  scarce  dreaming 
of  the  object  of  it,  since  I  had  not  recognized  him  for 
more  than  a  year,  but  he  obviously  was  perturbed. 
"Scott,"  said  I,  looking  steadfastly  into  his  eyes,  "I  want 
you  to  go  to  Denver  tonight!" 

"To  Denver?  And  what  for,  sir?" 

"You  will  take  the  Rio  Grande  train  for  Denver  to- 
night, see  your  client,  Early,  in  the  morning,  and  upon 
the  opening  of  Court  have  that  libel  case  against  me  dis- 
missed, at  his  costs.  If  you  fail  in  getting  Early  to  act 
as  I  have  suggested,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  re- 
turn to  Leadville,  because  I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall 
continue  to  live  here!" 

It  was  a  rather  bold  proposition  to  make  to  a  prom- 

[187J 


inent  lawyer,  but  he  realized  that  I  possessed  knowledge 
of  his  methods,  in  other  instances  as  well  as  this,  and  his 
first  utterance  convinced  me  that  my  bluff  had  succeeded. 

\Yithout  demurring  to  the  main  proposition,  he 
pleaded  lack  of  funds  for  such  a  mission ;  but  I  had  an- 
ticipated that  by  procuring  a  round-trip  ticket  for  his 
use,  and  handing  this  to  him,  together  with  a  ten  dollar 
note  for  his  hotel  bill,  I  dismissed  him. 

At  9  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  received  a  wire  from 
the  lawyer  to  this  effect:  "Early  will  dismiss  for  fifty 
dollars." 

Any  compromise  would  have  saddled  me  with  the 
costs;  hence  I  sent  a  rush  message:  "Not  fifty  cents. 
Remember!" 

The  case  was  dismissed,  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever 
heard  of  it  or  the  villain  who  instituted  it. 


[188] 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

FABULOUS  RICHES  UNCOVERED — FORTUNES  IN  A 
DAY — 30,000  CLAIMS  RECORDED 

Great  strides  had  been  made  in  the  development  of 
the  mineralized  section,  and  for  the  treatment  of  the 
constantly  increasing  tonnage  of  silver-bearing  ore  a 
number  of  large  sampling  works  and  smelters  were 
established  in  California  gulch,  employing  thousands  of 
unskilled  workmen.  Only  the  richest  ore  would  stand 
treatment  charges;  that  carrying  less  than  sixty  ounces 
of  silver  content  to  the  ton  was  left  on  the  dumps.  The 
ore  encountered,  almost  on  the  surface,  was  a  silver- 
bearing  carbonate  of  lead — hence  the  names  "Leadville" 
and  "Carbonate  Camp."  It  was  immensely  rich,  and, 
carrying  its  own  fluxing  material,  was  easily  treated.  I 
have  seen  as  much  as  $30,000  in  values  brought  down 
from  the  hills  in  an  ordinary  wagon. 

The  early  great  bonanza  mines  on  Fryer  Hill  multi- 
plied millionaires  and  gave  great  impetus  to  prospecting. 
Over  the  entire  area,  which  later  came  to  be  designated 
as  the  "Leadville  Mining  District,"  prospectors  swarmed 
in  all  directions,  and  before  the  close  of  the  second  year 
thirty  thousand  claims,  300x1,500  feet  in  area,  were 
considered  worth  patenting.  Indeed,  no  man  felt  secure 
in  his  rights  until  they  were  confirmed  by  the  land  de- 
partment of  the  government.  A  few  instances  will  illus- 
trate the  excessive  richness  of  the  silver  ore  and  its 
abundance. 

Sandwiched  in  between  the  famous  "Little  Pitts- 
burg,"  "Chrysolite,"  "Aime,"  and  other  bonanza  proper- 
cm] 


ties,  was  a  claim  located  by  a  group  of  Southern  gentle- 
men, and  named  the  "Robert  E.  Lee."  Development  of 
this  mine,  at  the  time  I  reached  Leadville,  was  confined 
to  a  vertical  shaft  sixty  feet  deep.  Here  water  was  en- 
countered, and  it  was  no  longer  practical  to  sink  deeper 
without  a  "hoist."  The  locators  had  exhausted  their 
means.  No  mineral  had  been  encountered,  and  the  only 
encouragement  to  continue  operations  was  the  proximity 
of  the  claim  to  heavily  producing  properties.  My  partner 
and  I  took  a  sixty-day  option  on  a  sixth  interest  for 
$1,500,  the  owners  agreeing  to  expend  the  money  in  un- 
watering  the  shaft  and  sinking  to  mineral.  We  per- 
mitted the  option  to  expire,  being  unable  either  to  take 
it  up  or  negotiate  its  sale.  Within  thirty  days  after 
maturity,  and  while  still  using  an  old-fashioned  windlass 
and  bucket,  values  aggregating  $129,000  were  taken 
from  the  shaft  within  twenty- four  hours.  In  the  decade 
following,  the  Lee  mine  yielded  $7,000,000. 

I  have  never  thought  our  failure  to  take  up  that  op- 
tion indicated  poor  judgment.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems 
to  me  now,  as  it  then  did,  that  it  would  have  been  mad- 
ness to  have  invested  any  considerable  sum  of  money  in 
a  sixty-foot  hole  in  the  ground,  full  of  water,  with  no 
other  merit  than  being  near  to  producing  mines.  At  that 
time,  it  should  be  remembered,  mining  was  not  pros- 
ecuted along  scientific  lines,  and  the  average  prospector, 
ignorant  of  geology,  mineralogy,  or  ore  occurrence,  was 
quite  as  likely  to  blunder  upon  a  rich  find  as  his  more 
learned  neighbor. 

Prof.  Emmons,  and  other  distinguished  members  of 
the  United  States  Geological  Bureau,  have  since  sur- 
veyed, mapped  and  charted  the  entire  district,  located 
the  principal  mineral  deposits,  their  dips,  spurs  and 
angles,  defining  the  faults  and  disclosing  every  feature 
of  underground  Leadville,  reducing  the  pursuit  of  min- 


[1901 


ing  to  a  fixed  science,  and  enabling  the  miner  to  sink 
with  intelligence,  to  drift  with  knowledge,  to  cross-cut 
with  certainty,  to  discover,  extract  and  hoist  the  ore  to 
the  surface  with  economic  appliances,  securing  the  maxi- 
mum results  with  the  minimum  of  labor  cost. 

It  is  rather  singular,  nevertheless,  that  the  larger 
number  of  important  discoveries  in  the  early  days  were 
made  by  uneducated  miners,  and  that  the  men  most  liber- 
ally equipped  with  scientific  knowledge  were  proverbially 
unsuccessful  in  their  exploitations.  Episodes  similar  to 
the  one  related  frequently  occurred,  and  it  would  be  a 
comparatively  easy  task  for  me  to  fill  a  volume  with  du- 
plicate incidents.  Perhaps,  by  a  little  generalization,  I 
may  better  succeed  in  impressing  the  reader  with  Lead- 
ville's  contribution  to  the  wealth  of  the  world. 

The  simple  statement  that,  in  the  first  thirty  years 
of  its  history,  it  aggregated  four  hundred  million  dol- 
lars, is  scarcely  impressive,  but  when  one  reflects  that 
the  sum  represents  four  dollars  for  every  man,  woman 
and  child  in  the  United  States,  and  that  it  was  all  taken 
from  an  area  ten  miles  square,  its  significance  begins  to 
be  realized. 

Interest  here  also  attaches  to  the  immense  labor  cost 
in  extracting  that  vast  tonnage  from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  from  a  depth  of  from  one  to  twelve  hundred  feet, 
and  from  drifts  and  cross-cuts  many  hundreds  of  miles 
in  length.  Another  illustration  will  here  best  serve  my 
purpose. 

In  1886  a  bill  was  introduced  into  Congress,  carrying 
an  appropriation  of  $250,000  for  a  public  building  at 
Leadville.  In  support  of  this  measure  it  became  neces- 
sary to  compile  a  mass  of  statistics  for  the  information 
of  Congressmen,  and  to  me  was  assigned  the  task.  One 
feature  of  my  exhibit  was  a  statement  of  the  tonnage  of 
the  two  railroads  for  the  six  years  they  had  then  been  in 

[191] 


operation.  The  facts  were  secured  from  the  auditing 
departments  of  the  lines,  hence  official  and  dependable. 
But  here  again  I  was  confronted  with  the  necessity  of 
making  comparisons,  to  the  end  that  the  figures  should 
prove  impressive.  I  took  account  only  of  ore  shipped 
in  and  out,  bullion  shipped  to  Eastern  refineries,  and 
coke,  coal  and  lime-rock  with  which  the  local  smelters 
were  supplied.  Merchandise  was  not  included.  I  found 
that  the  tonnage  of  the  items  enumerated,  within  the 
period  of  six  years,  if  loaded  into  freight  cars,  twenty 
tons  to  the  car,  would  make  a  continuous  train  extending 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  and  a  thousand  miles 
into  the  ocean!  And  the  value  of  the  mineral  thus 
treated  and  handled  was  sufficient  to  pay  the  debt  of 
every  State  and  Territory  in  the  Union.  Add  to  this  the 
tonnage  since  produced,  and  we  should  have  a  train  gird- 
ling the  world  with  several  laps  to  spare.  The  tonnage 
thus  disclosed,  all  handled  at  the  two  Leadville  stations, 
exceeded  the  total  tonnage,  within  the  same  period,  of 
the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  railway,  eight  hundred  miles  in 
length ! 

The  Guggenheim  Syndicate,  composed  of  half  a  score 
members  of  an  old  Dutch  family,  is  known  to  the  world 
of  finance  in  every  land.  Yet  few  are  aware  that  the 
foundation  of  their  immense  wealth  was  laid  in  Lead- 
ville, midway  of  the  decade  1880-90.  The  father,  failing 
jn  business  in  Philadelphia,  came  to  Colorado  in  company 
with  R.  B.  Graham,  both  men  of  mature  years.  Their 
combined  capital  was  represented  by  four  figures.  With 
this  meager  sum  they  bought  two  claims  lying  together 
on  the  slope  of  California  gulch,  known  as  the  "A  Y  and 
Minnie,"  deferred  payments  to  be  taken  out  of  the  mine. 

The  properties  were  supposed  to  be  worthless,  and 
long  had  been  idle.  The  main  shaft  was  at  once  sunk 
to  "second  contact,"  generally  believed  to  exist,  but  the 

[192] 


fact  never  proven.  Within  six  months  the  production 
netted  in  excess  of  $100,000  a  month.  This  sum  was 
evenly  divided  between  the  two  aged  partners,  any  ex- 
cess going  into  the  treasury  of  the  company  for  working 
capital.  The  elder  Guggenheim,  with  a  steady  income 
exceeding  half  a  million  yearly,  soon  became  a  power  in 
the  Western  world  of  finance.  One  after  another  of  the 
sons  joined  the  father,  until  all  of  the  male  members  of 
the  family  had  become  active  factors  in  the  rehabilitation 
of  the  lost  fortune  of  the  house  of  Guggenheim.  They 
built  a  large  smelter  at  Pueblo,  the  Pennsylvania,  which 
proved  immensely  profitable,  enabling  them  to  extend 
their  operations  to  Old  Mexico  in  the  south,  and  to 
British  Columbia  and  Alaska  in  the  north.  All  of  the 
interests  of  the  family  were  merged  in  the  "Guggenheim 
Syndicate,"  a  corporation  commanding  capital  reaching 
into  the  hundreds  of  millions.  Wealth,  no  less  than  pov- 
erty, however,  has  its  trials  and  its  griefs  no  less  than 
its  responsibilities.  The  meteoric  rise  of  the  Guggen- 
heims  in  the  world  of  finance  invited  envy  and  jealousy, 
and  the  members  of  the  family,  without  exception,  be- 
came the  targets  for  all  of  the  outrageous  slings  and  ar- 
rows of  envious  people  and  at  least  of  a  section  of  an 
unscrupulous  press.  The  elevation  of  Simon  Guggen- 
heim to  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate  opened  wide 
the  door  to  slander  and  vituperation,  and  the  family  has 
been  made  to  suffer  all  of  the  penalties  of  vast  wealth 
without  protest  from  a  people  and  a  country  immeasur- 
ably benefited  by  activities  vastly  enriching  empires  in 
extent  in  two  republics.  It  may  be  conceded  that  Simon 
Guggenheim  would  not  have  attained  eminence  had  he 
been  a  poor  man,  but  how  many  members  of  the  greatest 
deliberative  assembly  in  the  world  owe  their  triumph  to 
intellectual  or  moral  attainments.  ?  He  doubtless  spent 
more  money  in  the  campaign  for  the  Senate  than  another 

[193] 


might  have  done,  but  I  question  if  he  knowingly  spent 
one  dollar  for  any  dishonorable  purpose.  Liberality  is 
one  of  Simon  Guggenheim's  marked  characteristics.  No 
worthy  person  or  cause  ever  appealed  to  him  in  vain  for 
succor.  His  charities  have  ever  been  broad  and  gen- 
erous, but  perhaps  not  too  discriminative.  And  if  he 
entered  the  Senate  with  a  meagre  equipment  in  the  way 
of  experience  as  a  legislator,  I  believe  it  will  not  be  de- 
nied that  he  bore  himself  at  the  national  capital  with 
becoming  dignity  and  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  high 
trust  imposed  in  him.  His  public  career  began  after  I 
left  the  State,  and  I  have  not  had  opportunity  personally 
to  watch  his  course;  but  I  am  reliably  informed  that  he 
accomplished  more  for  the  State  and  the  interests  of  his 
constituents  than  any  other  man  ever  sent  to  the  cap- 
ital. Such  a  record  as  that  should  be  a  pretty  effective 
answer  to  his  detractors.  Not  yet  past  the  mid-century 
mark,  Senator  Guggenheim  is  far  from  being  a  waning 
factor,  and  may  yet  give  a  good  account  of  himself  in 
the  world  of  finance  and  commerce.  He  is  a  native  of 
Philadelphia,  educated  in  the  public  schools  of  that  city 
and  the  universities  of  Europe,  and  altogether  is  so  affa- 
ble and  lovable  a  person  as  to  make  acquaintance  with 
him  a  privilege.  His  friends  in  Colorado  are  legion,  and 
not  one  of  them  but  bear  willing  testimony  to  his  excep- 
tionally fine  qualities  of  heart  and  mind.  The  Guggen- 
heim family  have  done  a  great  deal  for  Colorado,  and 
deserve  much  gratitude  from  the  people  of  that  State. 
That  a  vein  of  Spartan  heroism  runs  in  the  house  of 
Guggenheim  was  abundantly  illustrated  in  the  tragic 
death  of  a  younger  member  in  the  historic  sinking  of  the 
Titanic,  his  conduct  in  that  awful  calamity  having  been 
above  praise. 

Before  the  close  of  the  first  decade  the  great  deposit 
of  carboniferous  ore  was  found  to  be  practically  ex- 

[194] 


\ 


hausted,  and  it  was  freely  predicted  that  Leadville  had 
seen  its  best  days,  and  that  before  many  years  it  would 
begin  to  decline.  Among  a  now  numerous  class  who 
entertained  a  belief  that  a  second  contact  exists  below 
the  deposit  of  carbonates,  stood  out  prominently  the  late 
Eben  Smith,  mining  partner  of  the  late  David  Moffatt, 
who  was  encouraged  by  the  success  of  the  Guggenheims. 
Mr.  Smith  was  found  quite  willing  to  spend  Mr.  Mof- 
fatt's  money  in  proving  his  theory,  and  after  hundreds 
of  thousands  had  been  so  expended  in  extending  the 
main  shaft  of  the  "Maid  and  Henriet"  mine,  enormous 
bodies  of  rich  sulphide  ore  were  uncovered. 

Leadville  thereupon  began  a  new  era,  known  as  the 
sulphide  period,  and  its  life  immeasurably  extended,  for 
the  deposit  of  sulphide  ore  was  found  to  underlie  the  car- 
bonate throughout  the  entire  district.  It  also  became  an 
era  of  deep  mining,  vastly  more  expensive,  but  promising 
endurance. 

Later,  when  Congress  repealed  the  purchasing  clause 
of  the  Sherman  Act,  and  silver  was  deprived  of  its  legal 
tender  quality,  Leadville  sustained  a  body  blow!  The 
selling  price  of  the  white  metal  steadily  fell  from  its 
coinage  value  of  1.29.29  an  ounce  to  50  cents,  and  many 
mines  were  in  consequence  closed.  The  fact  that  Lead- 
ville could  turn  out  thirty  to  forty  millions  of  silver  an- 
nually alarmed  the  bankers  of  the  world.  They  began 
to  fear  there  might  be  many  more  places  just  like  it,  and 
their  fears  culminated  in  the  closing  of  the  India  mints 
to  silver  and  the  collapse  of  the  whole  silver  fabric.  Pros- 
pectors ceased  the  quest  for  silver  and  took  up  the  search 
for  gold.  Chief  among  those  whose  courage  and  persis- 
tence in  this  behalf  were  rewarded  was  John  Campion, 
who,  in  the  lower  levels  of  the  "Little  Johnny"  mine, 
uncovered  the  richest  body  of  gold  ore  ever  discovered 
in  America. 

[195] 


Before  information  of  his  good  fortune  became  pub- 
lic property  he  had  acquired  an  extensive  area,  end- 
lining  and  side-lining  the  Johnny,  added  largely  to  the 
equipment  of  the  property,  and  began  a  campaign  of 
exploitation  that  resulted  in  the  production  of  millions 
annually. 

Campion  was  something  of  an  eccentric.  He  had 
brought  a  snug  fortune  to  Leadville  in  the  early  day, 
and  had  about  exhausted  it  when  the  Johnny  began  to 
reward  his  labors.  Indeed,  it  was  whispered  that  on  the 
eve  of  that  event  he  possessed  scarcely  enough  money 
with  which  to  buy  a  meal  ticket.  In  his  operations,  he 
had  met  with  some  success,  but  the  surplus  taken  from 
one  property  would  be  promptly  sunk  in  another,  He 
observed,  however,  that  mines  named  for  the  deer  family 
uniformly  yielded  returns;  whereas,  no  mine  otherwise 
christened  ever  produced  anything.  Hence,  just  before 
his  great  discovery  in  the  Johnny,  he  changed  the  name 
to  the  Ibex,  and  to  this  day  he  is  said  to  believe  that  alone 
responsible  for  his  good  fortune.  Among  his  holdings 
thereafter  were  the  Deer,  Moose,  Antelope,  Kidoo, 
Bison,  and  so  on  to  the  exhaustion  of  deer  nomenclature. 

For  a  quarter  of  a  century,  mining  was  retarded  and 
treatment  charges  enhanced  by  the  presence  in  all  of  the 
mines  of  the  district  of  varying  quantities  of  zinciferous 
ore,  an  exceedingly  refractory  mineral,  necessitating  its 
treatment  in  conjunction  with  a  carbonate  ore,  the  one 
fluxing  the  other.  But  in  the  course  of  time  a  process 
was  discovered  for  economically  separating  precious 
metal  values  from  the  zinc,  and  thenceforth  the  former 
pestiferous  metal  was  changed  from  a  costly  liability  to 
a  very  profitable  asset. 

Improvements  were  made  also  in  the  treatment  of  all 
varieties  of  mineral,  greatly  lessening  smelter  charges, 
and  bringing  into  pay  large  numbers  of  low  grade  prop- 

[196] 


erties,  besides  yielding  profitable  returns  from  the  roast- 
ing and  resmelting  of  the  old  dumps  and  tailings  from 
the  smelters. 

For  many  years,  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  output 
of  the  camp  found  its  way  to  the  smelters  by  traversing 
the  length  of  Harrison  Avenue.  Naturally,  quantities 
of  finely  pulverized  mineral  sifted  through  instertices  in 
the  wagons  and  was  deposited  in  the  street.  An  obser- 
vant individual,  I  am  advised,  recently  had  some  of  the 
street  dirt  assayed  for  precious  metal  content,  but  was 
close-mouthed  regarding  the  result.  Adroitly  precipi- 
tating a  newspaper  campaign  anent  the  wretched  condi- 
tion of  the  thoroughfare,  and  the  obvious  necessity  for 
repaving  it,  he  delayed  action  until  the  populace  were  of 
one  mind;  then  he  came  forward  with  a  philanthropic 
proposal  to  repave  Harrison  Avenue  its  entire  length 
with  asphalt,  wholly  at  his  own  expense.  No  city  could 
afford  to  reject  such  a  liberal  offer  as  that! 

Noted  as  Leadville  ever  has  been  for  developing  con- 
ditions and  situations  unusual  if  not  extraordinary,  the 
latest  hint  wafted  to  me  from  her  snow-clad  mountains 
is  that  eventually,  if  not  soon,  the  services  of  the  assessor 
are  to  be  dispensed  with!  Hundreds  of  feet  below  the 
city,  the  entire  area  is  honey-combed  with  drifts  and 
cross-cuts,  the  bulk  of  the  output  of  the  camp  at  one 
time  coming  from  that  region.  The  area  below  all  dedi- 
cated streets  and  alleys  belongs,  of  course,  to  the  munici- 
pality, and  little  doubt  is  entertained  that  the  courts,  in 
cases  now  pending,  will  confirm  its  title,  and  compel  an 
accounting  for  all  mineral  extracted,  and  to  be  extracted, 
from  that  public  holding.  The  area  comprehends  many 
hundred  acres,  the  ore  is  mainly  high  grade,  and  it  is 
estimated  that  the  revenue  from  this  source  will  be  suf- 
ficient, at  least,  to  pay  all  expenses  of  maintaining  the 
city  government. 


[197] 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

OPENING  A  NEW  CHAPTER  IN  THE  FASCINATING 
HISTORY  OF  FAMOUS  FRYER  HILL 

No  one  should  ever  be  surprised  over  any  change  in 
the  kaleidoscopic  career  of  Leadville.  It  was  the  mining 
marvel  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  now  gives  promise 
of  becoming  the  mineral  wonder  of  the  twentieth.  No 
area  of  like  dimensions,  so  far  as  I  am  advised,  ever 
equalled  the  fabulous  production  in  the  precious  metals 
of  Fryer  Hill,  a  slight  eminence  lying  just  northeast  of 
the  city,  and  separated  from  the  main  body  of  the  Lead- 
ville Mining  District  by  Strayhorse  Gulch.  This  little 
elevation,  scarcely  rising  to  the  dignity  of  a  hill,  distin- 
guished in  no  way  from  a  score  or  more  slight  upheavals 
in  the  same  vicinity,  with  never  an  outcropping  or  other 
indication  of  the  vast  wealth  that  for  ages  laid  undis- 
turbed but  a  few  hundred  feet  below  the  commonplace 
surface,  has  a  history  that  would  not  only  make  a  stu- 
pendous volume,  but  would  scarce  fail  to  thrill  the  reader 
with  its  realism,  its  glammor  and  its  tragic  romance. 
How,  when  and  by  whom  the  initial  discovery  of  mineral 
there  was  made  is  told  elsewhere  in  this  volume  by  Theo- 
dore Hook,  one  of  the  intrepid  discoverers.  It  is  here 
told  for  the  first  time,  the  simple  story  of  Mr.  Hook 
scarcely  giving  hint  of  what  that  discovery  meant  to 
Leadville,  to  Colorado,  and  to  the  world  at  large.  That 
one  hundred  and  fifty  millions  in  silver  values  were  taken 
from  that  meagre  area,  within  practically  a  decade,  is 
not  nearly  so  strange  and  unthinkable  as  that,  after  such 
a  matchless  performance  it  should  be  almost  entirely 

[198] 


abandoned  and  permitted  to  take  its  place  among  the 
exhausted  treasure  houses  of  Nature. 

Closely  following  the  exposure  of  carbonate  of  lead 
deposits  in  the  Pittsburg,  and  before  the  early  prospec- 
tors upon  that  and  adjoining  hills  in  the  vicinity  began 
to  realize  the  significance  of  the  find,  and  the  influence 
it  was  destined  to  have  in  the  peopling  of  Leadville  and 
the  upbuilding  of  the  entire  State,  came  the  uncovering, 
in  the  Little  Chief  mine,  nearby,  of  the  largest  body  of 
ore  in  place  ever  discovered — vertically  eighty  feet  of 
solid  mineral  of  high  grade!  Then  followed  the  expos- 
ure of  almost  fabulous  mineral  wealth  in  the  Aimee,  the 
Chrysolite,  the  Matchless,  the  Duncan,  Robert  E.  Lee, 
and  a  dozen  other  properties,  each  destined  to  become  a 
bonanza. 

Elsewhere  I  have  related  how  the  owners  of  the  last 
named  mine,  with  a  forlorn  hope  of  eventually  reaching 
pay  mineral,  gave  me  an  option  upon  a  sixth  interest  in 
the  property  for  the  pitiable  stipend  of  fifteen  hundred 
dollars — fifteen  hundred  dollars  for  a  minority  holding 
in  a  sixty-foot  hole  in  the  ground,  full  of  water  almost 
to  the  surface!  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of!  That  is 
what  old  miners  told  me  when  I  sought  to  sell  that  option. 
I  reasoned  that  it  was  surrounded  by  producing  prop- 
erties, that  the  rich  veins  in  those  mines  could  not  possi- 
bly be  confined  to  their  limited  area,  and  that  a  little 
further  development  surely  would  disclose  contact! 
Thus  I  reasoned  and  plead  and  implored,  to  no  purpose. 
Yet  out  of  the  mouth  of  that  sixty-foot  hole  in  the 
ground,  filled  with  water,  there  was  subsequently  lifted 
ore  worth  seven  millions  of  dollars. 

Files  of  the  local  papers  of  the  period,  the  early 
months  of  1880,  tell  the  tragic  story  of  the  fire  in  the 
lower  workings  of  the  Chrysolite,  and  how  the  few- 
home  owners  of  the  stock  of  the  company  bemoaned 

[199] 


their  fate,  being  unable  to  see  anything  but  ruin  of  the 
mine  and  the  blasting  of  their  hopes.  The  fire  continued 
to  burn,  nor  were  the  methods  then  in  vogue  at  all  ad- 
equate to  check  it.  Weeks  passed,  and  the  flames  con- 
tinued to  find  their  way  into  all  of  the  levels,  cross-cuts 
and  upraises.  The  Chrysolite  was  doomed!  So  nearly 
everybody  believed.  The  exceptions  were  two  shrewd, 
unscrupulous  manipulators  of  the  stock  on  the  shares 
market.  Startling  and  inexplicable  was  the  fact,  how- 
ever, that  as  the  fire  progressed  and  hope  began  to  die, 
Chrysolite  stock  on  the  New  York  Mining  Board  stead- 
ily climbed  upward,  and  before  the  flames  were  extin- 
guished had  reached  the  highest  quotation  ever  re- 
corded! This  was  an  unfathomable  mystery  to  all  ex- 
cept the  two  wily  manipulators.  But  they  soon  recog- 
nized the  fact  that  their  reckless  design  was  known  to  the 
Eastern  owners  of  the  mine,  who  refused  to  fall  into  the 
net  prepared  for  them  and  tenaciously  held  on  to  their 
shares.  Then  resort  was  had  to  other  devices  to  bear 
the  stock,  and  their  wicked  machinations  eventuated  in 
the  great  labor  strike  of  1880.  The  dramatic  and  near 
tragic  episodes  of  that  event  are  set  out  in  another  chap- 
ter of  this  volume. 

The  history  of  the  Matchless  mine,  a  record  of  phe- 
nomenal production,  adding  millions  to  the  already  ple- 
thoric purse  of  the  late  Senator  Tabor,  affords  abundant 
material  for  a  romance,  punctuated  as  it  is  with  episodes 
fraught  with  human  emotions — the  hopes  and  fears  of 
the  early  discoverers,  their  final  triumph  and  ultimate 
weakness  in  parting  with  the  princely  holding  for  a  song. 
Senator  Tabor  had  prized  it  above  all  earthly  possess- 
ions, and  even  after  its  reserves  had  been  exhausted, 
after  his  princely  fortune  had  been  snatched  from  him 
by  a  combination  of  untoward  circumstances,  leaving 
him  stranded  amidst  the  wreckage  of  a  fortune  of  al- 

[200] 


most  collossal  proportions,  he  tenaciously  held  on  to  the 
Matchless,  imbued  with  the  hope  that  one  day  it  might 
again  become  the  corner  stone  of  a  rehabilitated  for- 
tune. This  hope  was  shared  by  Mrs.  Tabor,  and  some- 
time after  the  death  of  her  husband  sympathetic  friends 
contributed  to  a  fund  to  redeem  the  property  and  permit 
the  woman  to  make  one  more  effort  to  restore  it  to  its 
former  proud  position.  The  story  is  not  lacking  in  pa- 
thos. I  sincerely  wish  I  might  be  privileged  to  record 
the  courageous  woman's  success  in  her  ambition.  With 
limited  means,  and  up  to  a  very  recent  period,  her  miners 
were  at  work  cleaning  out  the  tunnels,  drifts  and  stopes, 
preliminary  to  extending  them  into  virgin  territory. 

For  nearly  two  decades  Fryer  Hill  has  lain  prostrate, 
the  engines  silent,  the  stacks  smokeless,  the  costly  plants 
rusting  away  in  idleness  and  exposure.  The  lofty  shaft 
houses  have  stood  out  like  ghosts,  silent  guardians  of  all 
that  was  left  of  pristine  splendor,  headstones  to  departed 
fortunes. 

Another  chapter,  it  now  seems,  is  to  be  added  to  the 
engrossing  history  of  the  famed  Fryer  Hill.  A  sum  of 
money  equal  to  fifty  per  cent,  of  its  contribution  to  the 
wealth  of  the  world,  or  seventy-five  millions  of  dollars, 
represents  the  capital  of  a  syndicate  that  proposes  to  take 
over  all  of  the  properties  on  the  hill,  introduce  monster 
pumping  plants,  unwater  the  entire  area,  and  then,  with 
the  most  approved  machinery,  sink  shafts  and  drive  tun- 
nels in  all  directions,  in  the  confident  hope  and  expecta- 
tion of  proving  the  existence,  at  great  depth,  of  a  second 
and  possibly  a  third  contact,  below  the  levels  and  stopes 
from  which  so  many  million  tons  of  carbonate  and  sul- 
phide ores  were  extracted  in  the  decade  ending  with 
1890.  Far-seeing  men,  mining  engineers  and  mine  man- 
agers, careful  and  painstaking  students  of  the  geology 
and  ore  occurrence  of  the  district,  conceived  this  gigantic 

[201] 


undertaking  early  in  1915,  and,  having  faith  in  its  possi- 
bilities, they  set  about  the  task  of  securing  title  to  every- 
thing of  value  on  the  hill,  after  which,  armed  with  blue 
prints  and  maps,  statistics  of  past  production  and  esti- 
mates of  future  developments,  they  appealed  with  suc- 
cess to  the  investing  world  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard, 
whose  engineers  even  now  are  mapping  out  the  great 
work  to  be  undertaken.  Granted  that  the  theory  of  these 
courageous  men  is  substantially  correct,  great  transfor- 
mations may  confidently  be  looked  for  before  many 
years. 

Leadville  has  had  its  Carbonate  Era,  its  Sulphide 
Era,  its  Gold  Era,  its  Zinc  Era.  Soon  it  will  have  its  Era 
of  the  Unknown  but  Fathomable.  I  take  little  risk  in 
repeating  a  prophecy  printed  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago, 
that  the  coming  Iron  Era  may  prove  to  be  the  greatest, 
most  lasting  and  profitable  of  all  that  gone  before. 


[202] 


THEODORE    HOOK 
Discoverer  Little   Pittsburg   Mine 


AUGUST   RISCHE 

Mining   Associate   of 

Theodore  Hook 


HON.    GEORGE    B.    ROBINSON 
Discoverer  Famous   Robinson   Mine 


CHARLES    J.    MOORE 

American   Association  of 

Mining    Engineers 


HENRY     E.     WOOD 

American   Association  of 

Mining    Engineers 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

FIRST  AUTHENTIC  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE 
LITTLE  PITTSBURG  MINE 

So  numerous  and  varied,  so  questionable  and  con- 
tradictory, had  been  the  stories  of  the  discovery  of  the 
Little  Pittsburg  mine,  for  thirty  years  succeeding  the 
event,  that  I  determined  to  secure  a  truthful  recital  from 
the  surviving  member  of  the  couple  who  made  it,  and 
here  give  the  narration  in  the  unaltered  language  of  Mr. 
Theodore  Hook  himself,  a  story  that  henceforth  will 
take  the  place  of  all  that  have  preceded  it,  and  to  which 
it  bears  no  resemblance.  Mr.  August  Rische,  mining 
partner  of  Mr.  Hook,  died  many  years  ago.  The  latter 
is  among  the  few  fortunate  discoverers  distinguished 
for  having  made  prudent  investment  of  quickly  made 
fortunes. 

Historical  interest  of  national  scope  is  accorded  the 
discovery  of  the  Little  Pittsburg  from  the  fact  that  it 
gave  rise  and  impetus  to  the  greatest  mining  boom  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  to  the  building  of  Leadville  and  the 
addition  of  half  a  billion  dollars'  worth  of  mineral 
wealth  to  the  world's  store  of  the  precious  metals.  Mr. 
Hook's  story  follows: 

"On  Saturday  evening  of  April  20th,  1878,  August 
Rische  and  I  heard  that  George  Fryer  had  made  the 
discovery  of  the  New  Discovery,  and  on  Sunday  we 
concluded  we  would  see  what  it  amounted  to.  We  went 
up  and  looked  it  all  over,  and  concluded  the  stuff  had 
come  off  the  hill.  Both  of  us  were  poor,  and  we  had  to 
have  somebody  help  us  do  it,  so  I  went  out  to  Tabor  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  go  to  work  and  put  up  for  us.  We 

[203] 


found  a  shaft  sixty-five  feet  deep,  and  found  the  thing 
was  upside  down.  We  located  on  the  22d  of  April,  and 
had  ore  on  the  first  day  of  May — had  a  shaft  twenty- 
nine  feet  deep,  timbered.  In  thirty  days'  work,  with  the 
assistance  of  one  man,  we  had  thirty  feet  of  ore.  The 
shaft  cut  into  the  ore  on  the  edge  of  the  ore  body.  It 
was  only  an  inch  thick,  and  we  drifted  on  it  to  the  east, 
and  in  thirty  feet  driving  we  had  twenty-nine  feet  of 
ore.  This  was  the  first  real  discovery  of  high  grade 
carbonates  in  place  in  Leadville.  The  previous  discovery 
— Fryer's  discovery  of  the  New  Discovery — did  not 
find  ore  in  place — it  was  drift. 

"We  first  started  sinking  a  shaft  farther  down  the 
hill,  but  the  boys  on  the  Union  claim  notified  us  to  quit, 
and  we  changed  our  location  and  went  a  little  farther 
up  the  hill.  It  is  a  fact  that  had  we  sunk  the  shaft  ten 
feet  farther  to  the  south  we  would  have  missed  the  ore. 

"We  first  named  the  claim  The  Pittsburg,  from  the 
place  where  I  was  brought  up,  but  another  party  came 
and  claimed  the  name,  so  we  put  the  word  Little  before 
Pittsburg  in  the  location. 

"Within  the  week  after  first  starting  we  made  the 
first  shipment  of  ore,  through  August  R.  Meyer,  and  the 
ore  was  sent  to  St.  Louis.  The  first-class  ore  ran  $200 
and  $300,  and  the  second-class  $150  to  the  ton. 

"The  first  sale  of  the  mine  was  to  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Williams,  of  New  York,  for  $325,000  for  the  whole 
mine.  At  that  time  we  were  shipping  probably  $10,000 
worth  of  ore  a  week.  This  was  during  July.  In  August 
we  went  on  up  to  $50,000.  Williams  failed  to  take  up 
the  option.  Then  I  sold  my  third  interest  in  the  mine  to 
Rische  and  Tabor  for  $98,000.  I  turned  it  over  to  them 
in  September.  Altogether  I  received  in  profits  and  for 
the  sale  of  the  mine  $153,000.  Two  or  three  months 
later  Rische  sold  out  his  interest  to  Tabor  for  $265,000. 
This,  with  the  profits  he  had  received,  netted  him  over 
$400,000.  In  May,  1879,  Tabor  sold  one  half  of  the 
mine  for  $1,000,000,  and  he  made  about  two  and  a  half 
millions  out  of  the  mine,  when  he  finally  disposed  of  all 
of  his  interest. 

[204] 


"A  curious  incident  in  the  discovery  of  the  Little 
Pittsburg  was  the  fact  that  Rische  and  myself  first 
thought  of  going  to  Edwin  Harrison  to  grubstake  us. 
Harrison  was  owner  of  the  Harrison  Reduction  Works 
at  that  time,  and  was  the  man  for  whom  Harrison 
avenue  was  named.  Harrison,  however,  was  indisposed, 
and  we  were  unable  to  see  him  on  Sunday,  the  21st  of 
April,  so  we  concluded  to  go  to  Tabor. 

"The  Little  Pittsburg  was  the  first  real  discovery  of 
high-grade  carbonates  of  lead  in  place  in  Leadville. 
Previous  to  that  these  carbonates  were  known,  and 
Stevens  had  a  contract  with  the  St.  Louis  Reduction 
Works  for  the  shipment  of  a  large  tonnage,  but  it  was 
low-grade.  The  first  mine  that  Rische  and  myself 
owned  was  adjoining  the  Rock  mine  on  Rock  Hill,  where 
Stevens  was  shipping  this  low-grade  ore.  Our  mine 
was  known  as  the  77  mine.  We  also  shipped  consider- 
able from  the  77.  This  77  was  a  fraction  of  about  four 
acres,  which  we  discovered  was  ground  that  had  not 
been  located  previously,  and  we  sunk  a  shaft  nineteen 
feet  during  one  night  and  struck  ore.  All  these  car- 
bonates on  Rock  Hill,  however,  were  low  grade,  and  the 
real  discovery  of  high  grade  carbonates  was  that  made  in 
the  Little  Pittsburg  by  Rische  and  myself,  as  everyone 
knows.  This  was  the  real  beginning  of  the  high-grade 
silver  and  lead  mining  in  Leadville,  which  led  to  the 
boom  of  78  and  79. 

"This  is  the  plain,  unvarnished  tale  of  the  discovery 
of  the  Little  Pittsburg,  and  all  the  various  stories  that 
have  been  told  about  it  have  come  from  the  imagination 
of  other  people,  not  from  the  facts.  Many  of  these 
embellishments  of  the  story  are  ridiculous,  particularly 
the  tale  of  the  burro  and  the  jug  of  whisky.  Doubtless 
Rische  and  I  punished  many  a  jug  of  whisky,  but  not  that 
particular  one.  The  Little  Pittsburg  location  is  less 
than  half  a  mile  from  Tabor's  store  in  Leadville,  where 
we  started  from. 

"Everybody  knows  the  rest  of  the  story,  and  what 
a  great  mining  camp  this  discovery  led  to,  and  its  effect 
on  the  rest  of  the  State. 

[205] 


"In  regard  to  the  naming  of  Leadville,  in  the  first 
discussion,  when  the  town  was  incorporated  in  '77,  it 
was  called  Agassiz  because  August  R.  Meyer  was  a 
great  friend  of  Professor  Agassiz,  of  Harvard;  but  the 
name  never  had  any  standing,  and  the  first  postoffice  was 
named  Leadville.  Tabor  was  the  first  Mayor,  and  was 
also  the  first  Postmaster  of  Leadville.  Previous  to  the 
incorporation  of  the  town,  and  the  establishment  of  the 
postoffice  at  Leadville,  the  postoffice  for  the  district  was 
at  Oro,  at  Tabor's  store,  and  another  one  was  at  Malta. 

"The  first  building  put  up  in  Leadville  was  a  saloon, 
on  Chestnut  Street,  built  by  a  man  named  Mande.  The 
next  building  was  that  built  by  Charlie  Mater." 


[206] 


GLBNWOOD    SPRINGS,    COLORADO 
At   the  Confluence   of   the   Gunnison   and   Grand   Rivers 

ASPEN,    COLORADO 
At  the  Confluence  of  the  Roaring  Fork  and  Grand  Rivers 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

INSPIRATION  FOR  THE  BUILDING  OF  A  GREAT  TRANSCON- 
TINENTAL RAILWAY  LINE 

It  has  been  noted  that  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
and  the  Denver,  South  Park  and  Pacific  Railroad  were 
completed  to  Leadville  in  the  summer  of  1880.  For 
several  years,  and  until  the  promise  of  tonnage  war- 
ranted it,  no  effort  was  made  to  extend  them  westward, 
over  the  main  or  Continental  range  of  the  Rocky  moun- 
tains, into  the  valleys  of  the  Grand,  the  Gunnison  and 
the  Roaring  Fork.  They  were  an  empire  in  extent,  and 
known  to  be  richly  mineralized.  Extensive  bodies  of 
lignite  and  semi-bituminous  coal  and  marble  comparable 
with  the  best  Carrarra,  also  were  known  to  exist  there. 

Considerable  prospecting  and  development  had  been 
done  at  the  confluence  of  the  Roaring  Fork  and  of  the 
Grand,  at  the  north  end  of  the  valley,  and  at  the  avoca 
of  the  Gunnison  and  the  Grand  at  the  southern  end. 
Only  the  richest  mineral  was  being  extracted,  since  no 
other  would  stand  the  expense  of  transportation. 

I  conceived  the  idea  of  an  independent  line  of  rail- 
way, connecting  Aspen  with  Leadville,  to  bring  the  ores 
of  that  district  to  our  local  smelters,  thus  making  our 
city  a  great  smelting,  as  it  already  was  a  great  mining 
center.  I  little  realized  how  soon  my  dream  was  to 
develop  into  a  substantial  reality.  While  yet  debating 
the  problem  in  my  own  mind,  and  before  conference  with 
any  one,  or  hint  thrown  out  in  my  newspapers,  a  fortu- 
nate circumstance  pointed  to  the  solution. 

While  enjoying  a  brief  respite  at  Manitou's  restful 

[207] 


resort,  under  the  shadows  of  Pike's  Peak,  I  fell  in  with 
Major  J.  B.  Wheeler,  active  head  of  the  great  New  York 
dry  goods  house  of  R.  H.  Macy  &  Co.,  a  gentleman  of 
large  means  and  unlimited  credit.  He  seemed  much 
interested  in  Leadville,  and  inquired  if  it  still  offered 
inducements  for  investments  in  a  large  way.  I  made 
suitable  reply,  and  then  rather  timidly  unfolded  my  rail- 
way scheme.  Already  familiar  with  the  history  of  the 
two  roads  terminating  there,  and  the  immense  revenues 
earned  in  supplying  mines,  smelters  and  merchants,  as 
well  as  in  the  bullion  haul,  he  lent  a  willing  ear  to  my 
half-baked  scheme,  and,  before  returning  home,  he 
agreed  to  go  over  the  ground  with  me. 

While  on  the  western  slope,  he  satisfied  himself  as 
to  the  probable  existence  of  extensive  coal  deposits,  and 
before  leaving  bought  an  option  on  a  controlling  interest 
in  the  Aspen  silver  mine. 

The  result  of  the  expedition  was  encouraging  beyond 
my  fondest  hopes.  Returning  to  Colorado  in  the  fall, 
Major  Wheeler  set  about  organizing  the  Colorado  Mid- 
land Railway,  became  its  provisional  president,  and  to- 
gether with  a  number  of  financially  strong  men,  provi- 
ded funds  for  a  preliminary  survey. 

The  estimated  cost  of  the  line,  crossing  the  Conti- 
nental divide  at  an  altitude  exceeding  12,000  feet,  was 
$18,000,000.  The  task  of  building  the  road  was  made 
difficult  by  the  influence  exerted  in  money  centers  by  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  and  the  Denver,  South  Park 
and  Pacific  (a  Union  Pacific  influence),  but  the  feat  was 
accomplished,  and  arrangements  made  to  start  the  work 
of  construction. 

At  this  juncture  another,  and  apparently  insurmount- 
able obstacle  was  placed  in  our  way.  The  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Railway  people,  seeing  that  their  territory 
was  threatened  with  invasion,  and  too  short-sighted  to 

[208] 


recognize  that  the  new  line  might  become  a  valuable 
feeder  to  their  system,  refused  to  make  any  concessions 
in  rates  on  rails  and  other  material,  assuming  that  the 
regular  tariff  would  discourage  the  projectors  of  the 
new  enterprise,  and  possibly  compel  them  to  abandon  it. 
But  they  counted  without  their  host.  "They  may  go  to," 
declared  Wheeler.  "We  will  extend  our  line  to  the 
valley,  and  bring  in  our  own  material."  This  did  not 
please  me  at  all.  It  meant  ruin  to  my  initial  scheme. 

While  a  line  was  being  surveyed  from  Leadville  east- 
ward to  Colorado  Springs,  Mr.  Wheeler  returned  home 
and  raised  an  additional  ten  millions  with  which  to  build 
the  projected  road  over  the  Ute  Pass,  years  before  pro- 
nounced impracticable,  even  for  a  narrow  guage. 

This  decision  of  the  Colorado  Midland  to  extend  its 
line  to  a  connection  with  the  entire  railway  system  of 
the  State,  while  sound  policy  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
railway  investor,  was  fatal  to  my  conception  of  what  the 
new  enterprise  was  to  be,  and  what  it  was  to  accomplish. 
Instead  of  insuring  to  Leadville  smelters,  for  all  time, 
the  treatment  of  all  Aspen  ores,  it  provided  a  direct 
highway  for  them  to  the  valley  smelters,  already  enjoy- 
ing preferential  rates  over  the  home  concerns ;  nor  did  I 
even  have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Aspen's  shipments 
pass  through  Leadville,  since,  by  means  of  a  cut-off  in 
the  valley  of  the  Arkansas,  five  miles  distant,  they  were 
entirely  diverted!  Only  passenger  trains  were  to  pass 
through  the  city. 

A  little  later  the  Midland  was  extended  in  the  other 
direction,  to  a  connection  with  the  Rio  Grande  Western 
at  Grand  Junction,  thus  forming  an  important  loop  in 
the  existing  trans-continental  lines  at  Ogden  and  Salt 
Lake  eastward  to  Denver  and  the  Mississippi  river,  and 
westward,  eventually,  via  the  San  Pedro,  Los  Angeles 
and  Pacific,  to  the  Pacific  coast. 

[209] 


The  opening  of  the  Colorado  Midland  for  freight 
and  passenger  traffic  should  have  been  a  red-letter  day 
for  me,  its  original  discoverer  and  wet  nurse.  Instead, 
it  proved  an  occasion  only  for  tears  and  vain  regrets; 
and  the  reason  for  it  "points  a  moral  and  adorns  a  tale," 
worthy  of  mention  here. 

In  promoting  the  initial  sale  of  bonds  in  Eastern 
money  centers,  in  the  face  of  powerful  opposition  by  the 
existing  railway  lines,  I  naturally  and  legitimately, 
through  the  columns  of  my  papers  and  otherwise,  accen- 
tuated the  abnormal  profits  that  had  been  taken  by  the 
initial  lines.  Capital  had  to  be  "shown."  Had  I  not 
shown  it,  the  flotation  of  thirty  millions  of  bonds  would 
have  been  quite  impossible.  But,  in  doing  this,  I  was 
wielding  a  two-edged  sword.  My  illustration  of  the  in- 
ducements for  capital  to  invest  in  a  new  railway  empha- 
sized the  extent  to  which  local  shippers  had  been  robbed 
by  the  old  carriers,  and  they  decided  that  the  psychologi- 
cal moment  to  strike  for  relief  was  when  the  Colorado 
Midland  was  completed  and  ready  to  receive  traffic. 

A  "round  robin"  was  the  instrument  with  which  they 
sought  to  achieve  their  worthy  purpose,  and  whereas 
that  was  a  dagger  in  the  breasts  of  my  friends,  the  per- 
sons whose  hard  dollars  had  built  the  road,  I  could  not 
consistently,  with  my  loyalty  to  local  shippers,  combat 
it  in  any  way,  openly  or  covertly.  The  agreement,  signed 
by  ninety-five  per  cent,  of  them,  was  a  pledge  to  route 
all  shipments  over  one  road,  for  an  indefinite  period,  un- 
til the  other  two  should  be  forced  to  concede  a  horizontal 
reduction  in  freight  rates.  And,  perverse  as  communi- 
ties acting  as  a  unit  sometimes  are,  they  ignored  the 
claims  of  the  new  road,  and  concentrated  their  business 
upon  the  one  that  had  robbed  them  the  longest  and  the 
most  unmercifully! 

I  question  whether  an  unsophisticated,  well-meaning 

[210] 


journalist  ever  before  ran  up  against  such  an  embarrass- 
ing and  humilitating  dilemma.  One  group  of  friends, 
the  shippers,  were  only  demanding  their  rights,  so  often 
and  so  loudly  proclaimed  by  myself,  while  another  group 
of  friends,  the  persons  who  largely  through  my  efforts, 
had  been  induced  to  invest  thirty  millions  of  dollars, 
were  out  for  business,  unhampered  by  any  sentimental 
notions.  The  situation,  as  far  as  related  to  me  person- 
ally, was  exasperating.  The  logical  move  would  have 
been  for  the  first-named  group  to  use  the  Colorado  Mid- 
land as  a  weapon  with  which  to  club  the  other  roads  into 
line,  but  powerful  influences  dictated  another  course, 
and  my  pet  railway  was  inaugurated  with  the  handicap 
of  a  formidable  boycott !  I  alone  had  conceived  the  under- 
taking, served  it  as  accoucher  and  wet  nurse,  driven  its 
first  spike,  rode  in  its  first  passenger  and  freight  engine, 
and  was  "the  first  person  with  a  boiled  shirt"  to  climb 
through  its  million-dollar  Hagerman  tunnel.  I  had  se- 
cured for  it  right  of  way  into  the  city  without  the 
expenditure  of  a  dollar,  and  served  it  in  many  and  de- 
vious ways,  and  yet  now  was  powerless  to  tender  it  a 
pound  of  freight!  The  fact  that  I  am  still  on  earth, 
limbs  intact  and  faculties  unimpaired,  indicates  that, 
since  the  "round  robin"  performed  its  purposeful  mis- 
sion, none  of  the  original  investors  in  the  Colorado  Mid- 
land have  ever  met  me  in  a  dark  alley. 

An  incident  or  two  associated  with  the  procurement 
of  right  of  way  into  Leadville  may  not  be  without  inter- 
est. Several  years  prior  to  the  advent  of  the  road  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railway  Co.  had  purchased  of 
the  city  two  blocks  of  ground,  intending  ultimately  to 
utilize  it  for  depot  purposes,  the  initial  station  of  the  line 
being  in  an  undesirable  locality.  Now  it  happened  that 
those  two  blocks  of  land  laid  along  the  right  of  way  pro- 
cured by  the  Midland — were  an  obstruction,  as  it  were — 

[211] 


and  aside  from  that  fact  the  Midland  officials  were  suf- 
ficiently discerning  to  grasp  the  idea  that  if  they  consti- 
tuted an  eligible  site  for  depot  purposes  for  the  Rio 
Grande  they  would  appeal  to  them  with  added  force.  All 
attempts  to  purchase  the  plot  had  been  fruitless.  The 
decree  came  up  from  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Mid- 
land that  the  land  must  be  acquired.  And  it  was.  Gen- 
eral George  W.  Cook,  in  charge  of  the  company's  inter- 
ests at  Leadville,  invited  me  to  meet  him  on  the  ground 
at  one  minute  after  12  o'clock,  midnight,  of  a  certain 
Saturday  night.  It  was  Sunday.  All  courts,  of  course, 
were  closed.  To  procure  an  injunction  against  us  was 
impossible.  Cook  was  Mayor  of  the  city,  and  arranged 
to  have  the  night  patrolmen  stationed  at  points  as  remote 
as  possible  from  Fourth  street  and  Maple  avenue.  At 
12:05  a  truck  with  rails  and  another  with  ties  drove  up 
to  the  site.  A  score  or  more  of  track-layers  came  up  out 
of  the  darkness  and  ranged  themselves  along  the  line 
staked  out.  At  12:10  a  Director  of  the  Midland  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  and  notified  Cook  that  he  had  come 
to  drive  the  first  spike.  Cook  told  him  there  was  nothing 
doing — Davis  was  to  have  the  honor.  At  12 :15  I  swung 
the  mighty  hammer  in  air  and  drove  home  the  first  spike 
driven  on  the  Colorado  Midland  Railway.  The  site  was 
guarded  for  a  few  days,  but  the  Rio  Grande  people  made 
no  effort  to  recover  their  lost  property.  The  matter  got 
into  the  courts,  and  I  presume  a  fair  price  ultimately  was 
paid  for  the  land.  At  all  events  the  city  station  of  the 
Colorado  Midland  was  erected  upon  the  stolen  ground, 
and  remains  there  to  this  day  and  hour. 

About  the  date  of  this  incident  the  Colorado  Midland 
people  had  bought  twenty-one  lots  in  another  part  of  the 
city  from  the  county  for  repair  shops  and  yards.  The 
Board  of  County  Commissioners  had  made  the  sale  and 
directed  the  Chairman  to  sign  the  deed.  This  he  de- 

[212] 


HON.    H.    A.    \V.    TABOR 

Ex-Lieut.    Governor  and 

Ex-F.     S.     Senator 

HOX.    DAVID    H.     MOFFATT 
Prominent    Banker   and 

Mine    Owaar 
DR.     D.    H.     DOl'GAN 
Ex-Mayor,    Banker   and 
Smelter    Manager 


HOX.    EDV.'IN    HARRISON 
President   St.   Louis  Smelt- 
ing and  Refining:  Co. 


H.     JAMKS 

K\- Mayor.    Omaha    and 
Grant   Smelting   Co. 


clined  to  do,  doubtless  holding  out  for  a  consideration. 
The  Midland  officials  exhausted  their  resources  in  en- 
deavors to  get  the  Chairman  to  execute  the  deed,  and 
finally  in  their  desperation  appealed  to  me.  I  took  the 
deed  from  the  hands  of  the  chief  counsel  of  the  road,  Mr. 
Rogers,  promising  to  return  it  within  fifteen  minutes, 
properly  executed.  I  sought  out  Mr.  DeMaineville,  the 
recalcitrant  Chairman,  reminded  him  of  the  universal 
demand  for  the  building  of  the  road  on  the  surveyed 
line,  and  rather  broadly  intimated  to  him  that  it  wouldn't 
be  necessary  for  him  to  remain  longer  in  Leadville,  since, 
in  the  event  of  refusal,  it  was  not  my  purpose  to  permit 
him  to  live  there.  I  returned  with  the  executed  deed 
within  the  specified  time.  It  was  the  exercise  of  such 
arbitrary  and  lawless  power,  in  a  number  of  vital  in- 
stances, that  warranted  a  local  merchant  in  facetiously 
dubbing  me  "the  King  of  Leadville." 


[213] 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

CORRUPTION  IN  CITY  AFFAIRS — A  MODEL  MAYOR 
SCHEMES  OF  GRAFT  CIRCUMVENTED 

The  political  history  of  Leadville  would  fill  a  large 
volume,  and  there  would  be  few  dull  pages  between  its 
covers.  The  first  Mayor,  after  incorporation,  was  Gen- 
eral William  H.  James,  of  the  Eddy  &  James  Smelter. 

The  first  City  Council  was  composed  of  twelve  Alder- 
men, every  one  of  them  a  native  of  Ireland. 

Mr.  James  was  followed  by  Dr.  D.  H.  Dougan, 
whose  administration  was  so  forceful,  effective,  clean 
and  wholesome,  that  the  dominant  factors  in  the  Repub- 
lican party,  the  managers  of  the  Herald,  felt  obliged  to 
oppose  his  renomination.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that 
my  mental  resolution  to  steer  clear  of  personal  partici- 
pation in  politics  was  thrown  to  the  winds.  The  attitude 
of  these  men  struck  me  as  preposterous.  My  very  soul 
revolted  against  the  theory  that  faithfulness  to  a  public 
trust  must  be  punished  rather  than  rewarded. 

I  refused  to  stand  for  it.  Rolling  up  my  sleeves  and 
plunging  into  the  arena,  I  compelled  the  would-be  dicta- 
tors to  sit  up  to  take  notice  of  things.  After  a  spirited 
campaign,  at  primary  and  the  polls,  I  landed  Dougan  a 
second  time  in  the  Mayor's  chair,  with  800  votes  to 
spare,  a  gain  of  752  over  his  first  election. 

I  have  noted  the  greed  of  Captain  Dill,  manager  of 
the  Herald,  in  manipulating  the  city  printing  and  City 
Clerkship  in  the  former  administration.  He  now  boasted 
of  his  purpose  to  repeat  the  trick.  But  the  Dougan  Coun- 
cil demurred,  and,  although  I  had  claimed  no  reward,  I 

[214] 


was  promptly  chosen  City  Clerk,  and  the  printing  was 
awarded  to  the  Chronicle!  The  twin  plums  were  easily 
worth  $10,000  per  annum  to  me. 

Dr.  Dougan's  administration  was  distinguished  by 
numerous  interesting  episodes,  a  few  of  which  will  be 
recounted.  The  Council  had  inherited  a  claim  of  Hall 
&  Sullivan,  contractors,  for  grading  streets  that  never 
were  graded,  in  the  sum  of  $48,000.  It  was  a  bold  at- 
tempt to  fleece  the  city  in  that  amount.  The  bill  was 
presented,  approved  by  the  finance  committee,  and  put 
to  a  vote.  On  roll  call  seven  members  voted  aye,  five 
nay,  but  the  Mayor  promptly  declared  the  motion  lost! 

"Your  Honor/'  fairly  shouted  Alderman  Pritchard, 
spokesman  of  the  clique,  "isn't  seven  a  majority  of 
twelve?" 

"Yes,"  coolly  replied  the  Mayor,  "but  it  doesn't  get 
this  steal  through !  Mr.  Clerk,  you  will  record  the  vote 
seven  in  the  affirmative,  five  in  the  negative,  and  lost!" 

And  neither  the  Mayor  or  the  Clerk  had  occasion  to 
bring  into  play  the  six  shooters  with  which  previously 
they  had  armed  themselves. 

Another  inheritance  of  a  previous  administration 
was  a  claim  of  a  street  railway  company,  many  thousand 
dollars  in  amount,  for  maintenance  of  right  of  way  over 
certain  streets,  work  which  the  company,  under  its  fran- 
chise, was  obligated  to  do  at  its  own  expense. 

Members  of  the  Council  favorable  to  the  allowance 
of  this  fraudulent  claim,  well  aware  of  the  Mayor's 
unyielding  opposition,  held  it  in  abeyance  until  the  latter 
had  left  the  city  on  a  month's  vacation  at  his  old  home 
at  Richmond,  Indiana.  He  had  scarcely  got  well  on  his 
way  before  the  plotters  had  all  arrangements  made  for 
putting  the  measure  through  at  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Council,  the  President  pro  tem  lending  himself  a  willing 
tool  to  the  plan.  Learning  of  the  scheme  in  time,  I  got 

[215] 


Dr.  Dougan  on  the  wire  and  brought  him  back  in  time 
to  walk  into  the  chamber  on  his  arm  as  the  Council  was 
being  called  to  order. 

The  claim  of  the  railway  company  was  never  heard 
of  after  that  pretty  bit  of  check-mating. 

Leadville  was  not  just  the  place  in  which  to  seek  civic 
righteousness,  and  Dr.  Dougan's  administration  stands 
out  quite  alone  and  unique  in  the  slimy  history  of  munici- 
pal government  in  the  United  States. 


[216] 


MRS.  H.  A.  W.  TABOR  MRS.    HALL, 

First   White   Woman   in  .  Second   White   Woman   in 

California    Gulch  California   Gulch 

MRS.    R.    E.    GOODELL 
Distinguished  as  a   Philan- 
thropist and  Society  leader 

ELLIS    MEREDITH 


MRS.    A.    V.   HUNTER 

Distinguished    Leader   of  Denver 

and   Leadville   Society 


Famous  Journalist.  Politician 
and  Suffragist 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

THE  BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  LIFE — CHARACTERISTICS  OF 
SOCIETY  IN  THE  EARLY  DAY 

Society  in  the  early  days  of  Leadville — that  is,  good 
society — in  keeping  with  everything  else,  came  with  a 
rush,  and  it  might  be  said,  started  with  the  town.  Its 
high  standard  was  not  effected  by  other  conditions  noted 
in  these  pages. 

Notwithstanding  those  who  were  attracted  to  the 
camp  in  its  boom  days  were  largely  gold-seekers,  adven- 
turers, gamblers,  gunmen,  crooks,  and  miners,  there  was 
quite  a  sprinkling  of  business  and  professional  men  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  and  it  was  these  men — law- 
yers, doctors,  merchants,  ministers,  metallurgists,  engin- 
eers, bankers,  journalists,  and  the  like,  who  early  got 
together  and  formed  themselves  into  a  club,  the  parties 
they  periodically  gave  being  known  as  the  "Assembly 
Balls." 

And  surprising  as  it  may  seem,  this  society  ranked 
with  the  best  in  the  world — a  broad  statement,  but,  reas- 
oning from  facts  understated,  the  claim  can  easily  be 
substantiated.  Let  it  be  assumed  that  the  professional 
and  business  men  who  formed  Leadville's  early-day  so- 
cial set  were  the  equal  in  education,  intelligence,  culture, 
refinement  and  morals  of  any  similar  set  elsewhere. 
Why  not?  The  demands  of  a  mining  camp  upon  the 
talented  are  heavy;  particularly  in  mining  and  metal- 
lurgy is  this  true.  So  in  this  society  were  the  usual  num- 
ber of  talented  professional  and  business  men,  and  to 

[217] 


these  were  added  the  shining  lights  of  all  the  world  in 
things  mining  and  metallurgical.  Then  to  all  of  them 
must  be  added  the  one  noble  trait  of  character  which 
cannot  be  generally  attributed  to  the  rank  and  file  of 
society,  that  of  courage. 

They  were  a  brave  lot  of  men  who  blazed  the  trails 
in  Leadville,  for  it  takes  bravery  and  courage  to  break 
home  ties  and  leave  pleasant  surroundings  to  rough  it  on 
the  frontier.  These  were  the  men  who  went  to  the  front, 
and  the  women  who  accompanied  them  were  equally 
brave,  courageous  and  true. 

The  Scriptures  say :  "By  their  works  ye  shall  know 
them."  From  the  Assembly  Club  of  Leadville  have  been 
chosen  Senators,  Congressman,  Governors,  Supreme 
Judges,  and  its  men  and  women  are  filling  high  and  re- 
sponsible positions  in  all  honorable  walks  of  life.  They 
are  prosperous,  happy  and  charitable.  Indeed,  all  of 
them  have  made  good.  Hence  my  claim — a  society  un- 
excelled in  all  the  world ! 

Denver  is  now  the  home  of  many  of  the  members  of 
the  Leadville  Assembly  club,  and  one  of  its  members, 
Mr.  Calvin  H.  Morse,  rounded  them  up  and  gave  them 
an  Assembly  Ball  and  banquet  at  the  Brown  Palace  Ho- 
tel, February  3rd,  1913.  There  were  three  hundred 
present,  and,  notwithstanding  the  lapse  of  time,  all 
looked  as  young  as  of  yore.  The  Leadville  Assembly  Club 
it  was  voted,  should  never  be  permitted  to  die,  but  should 
be  incorporated  and  perpetuated. 

Mary  Hallock  Foote  has  almost  immortalized  the 
Assembly  Club  in  her  account  of  "The  Last  Assembly 
Ball,"  in  a  novel  entitled  "The  Led-Horse  Claim,"  (Led- 
Horse  being  a  corruption  of  "Strayhorse,"  a  well-known 
gulch  leading  eastward  from  Leadville.)  Nearly,  if  not 
all  of  the  characters  were  readily  identified  as  members 
of  the  Assembly  Club,  and  the  hero,  if  my  memory 

[218] 


serves  me  correctly,  was  none  other  than  Professor  S.  F. 
Emmons,  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey,  who 
spent  a  number  of  years  in  investigating  and  charting 
the  Leadville  Mining  District. 

The  social  history  of  Leadville  owes  much,  also,  to 
other  clubs,  some  organized  in  1878  and  surviving  to 
this  day,  and  others  of  more  recent  origin.  The  oldest 
of  these  was  the  Elk  Club,  followed  by  the  Mining  Club, 
the  Leadville  Club,  and  that  of  the  Benevolent  Patriotic 
Order  of  Elks. 

The  first  named  club  consisted  mainly  of  mining  men, 
engineers,  surveyors,  brokers  and  mine-owners.  During 
all  these  years  the  club  has  been  supplied  with  liquors, 
wine  and  cigars  through  the  operation  of  a  system  of 
rules  and  fines.  Thus  if  a  member  sold  a  mine  for 
$50,000  he  was  assessed  a  certain  figure,  and  so  on  up  to 
any  value,  and  a  commission  attached  to  every  wager 
made,  the  proceeds  always  applied  to  supplying  the  needs 
of  the  club  in  the  line  of  smoking  and  drinking.  It.  is 
quite  remarkable  that  a  club  such  as  this,  organized 
primarily  for  dining  purposes,  should  have  survived 
nearly  half  a  century. 

Nearly  every  secret  society  with  a  national  organi- 
zation had  a  lodge  in  Leadville,  all  contributing  their 
share  to  the  social  gaiety. 

So  much  had  been  said  and  printed  regarding  the 
character  of  the  population  of  the  camp,  the  impression 
being  that  it  was  largely  composed  of  blackleg  men  and 
women  of  the  underworld,  that  I  sought  to  correct  the 
popular  idea  with  a  single  convincing  proof.  I  secured 
photographs  of  one  hundred  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
cultured  ladies  of  the  city,  grouped  them  upon  a  broad 
page  of  highly  calendered  paper,  and  printed  the  im- 
pression from  lithographed  stones,  in  the  highest  style 
of  the  art  of  that  day.  At  that  time  no  newspaper  had 
thought  of  printing  the  face  of  a  respectable  woman, 
and  I  was  put  to  my  wits'  ends  to  secure  the  needed 
photographs.  Of  course  at  that  time  no  respectable 
lady  would  furnish  a  photograph  for  such  a  purpose, 

[219] 


nor  would  any  photographer  provide  me  with  one  with- 
out an  order.  I  simply  had  to  steal  them.  I  justified 
myself,  as  did  Bassanio: 

"And  I  beseech  you 
Rest  once  the  law  to  your  authority; 
To  do  a  great  right,  do  a  little  wrong." 

I  assumed  that  the  publication  of  that  symposium  of 
beautiful,  obviously  pure  and  cultured  women,  would 
forever  remove  the  blot  from  Leadville's  fair  fame.  But 
the  secret  got  out  before  the  day  of  publication ;  and  the 
town  was  astir  with  indignation.  The  protest  came  from 
all  quarters,  and  threats  of  every  nature  were  indulged 
should  I  persist  in  my  determination.  I  pleaded  with 
some,  who  came  to  protest  in  person,  that  no  names, 
place  of  residence,  or  other  sign  of  identification,  were 
to  be  used;  but  it  was  all  to  no  purpose.  Even  the  in- 
sistence of  my  worthy  purpose,  and  the  need  of  such  a 
demonstration,  fell  upon  deaf  ears.  Subscribers 
threatened  to  cancel  their  subscriptions,  merchants,  in 
some  instances,  were  induced  to  intimate  a  boycot,  and 
finally  a  coterie  of  wealthy  and  influential  big  wigs  sued 
out  an  injunction  in  the  District  Court,  restraining  the 
publication.  And  thus  sixty  thousand  sheets  of  as 
beautiful  female  faces  as  ever  graced  the  pages  of  a 
newspaper  were  necessarily  confined  to  the  flames  before 
the  day  of  publication. 

A  very  limited  number  of  the  sheets  had  in  some 
manner  escaped  from  the  press  room,  and  thereafter  the 
office  was  besieged  for  duplicates,  a  dollar  a  copy  being 
freely  offered. 

In  these  days  the  Managing  Editor  scarcely  thinks  of 
going  to  press  without  the  picture  of  some  lady  for  the 
moment  in  the  public  eye.  But  I  was  the  pioneer  in  the 
enterprise,  and  suffered  accordingly. 

I  had  counted  largely  upon  this  feature  to  sell  that 
particular  special  number  of  the  paper,  and  had  printed 
vastly  more  sheets  than  otherwise  I  should  have  done. 
I  feared  the  elimination  of  it  would  be  fatal  to  the  issue; 

[220] 


but  so  much  had  been  said  about  the  matter  that  an  arti- 
ficial demand  was  created,  and  the  entire  edition  was 
disposed  of  long  before  nightfall. 

Often  since  I  have  reflected  that  the  most  outraged 
women  of  the  community,  in  case  the  publication  had  not 
been  judicially  interfered  with,  would  have  been  those 
whose  faces  did  not  appear  in  the  symposium  of  Lead- 
ville  beauty  and  culture. 


[221] 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 
APPOINTED  MASTER  OF  THE  MAILS — MOST  REMARKABLE 

POSTOFFICE  IN  THE  WORLD 

Postmaster  Tabor  was  succeeded  by  Dr.  Smith  while 
I  yet  was  City  Clerk.  He  was  short  $30,000  in  his  ac- 
counts, and  the  Postoffice  department  was  insisting  that 
the  Colorado  delegation  in  Congress  must  decide  upon  a 
successor.  This  was  not  easy,  since  there  were  four 
hungry  applicants  for  the  position,  none  of  whom  could 
command  united  endorsement  of  the  Colorado  delegation 
in  Congress.  Dr.  Smith  not  only  made  no  effort  to  con- 
ceal his  shortage,  but  boldly  carried  over  the  amount  in 
red  ink  from  day  to  day  in  his  cash  book,  the  figure  al- 
ways increasing,  never  a  dollar  less!  Senator  Chaff ee, 
father-in-law  of  General  Fred  Grant,  Senator  Tabor, 
and  others  of  the  millionaire  class,  were  Smith's  bonds- 
men, a  circumstance  that  in  a  measure  reconciled  the 
Postmaster  General  to  the  delay. 

Finally  the  Senators  and  Representatives  harmo- 
nized upon  an  agreement  to  reject  all  of  the  clamorous 
applicants  and  recommend  me  to  President  Arthur  for 
appointment.  Senator  Hill  wired  for  my  decision. 

I  had  not  so  much  as  given  the  subject  passing 
thought.  I  was  publishing  two  daily  papers,  with  a 
working  force  of  fifty  men.  My  work  as  City  Clerk  and 
ex-officio  Clerk  of  the  Council,  together  with  my  duties 
at  the  City  National  Bank,  required  much  of  my  time. 
I  had  numerous  irons  in  the  fire;  but  I  promptly  replied 
by  wire :  "Will  accept  if  I  shall  not  have  to  ask  a  man 
or  spend  a  postage  stamp." 

[222] 


A    DISTINGUISHED    LEADVILLE    FAMILY 

Mrs.   Gov.    Grant    (nee   Miss   Goodell)  Mrs.    Hill    (nee    Miss    Goodell) 

I     Mrs.   A.   A.  Blow   (nee  Miss  Goodell)  Mrs.   Mitchell    (nee   Miss  Goodell) 

Wives  of  Gov.  Grant,  Engineer  Blow,  U.  S.  Marshal  Hill,  President  Mitchell  of 

the  Denver  National   Bank 


EARLY    LEADVILLE    SOCIETY    BELLES 


My  appointment  was  promptly  confirmed.  I  qual- 
ified in  bonds  of  $150,000  on  money  order  account  and 
$50,000  general  revenue  account. 

A  few  episodes  connected  with  my  administration  of 
the  office  will  not  lack  interest. 

Notwithstanding  the  excessive  bonds  required,  the 
salary  was  limited  to  $4,000  per  annum,  and  during  my 
term  I  expended  $1,500  of  my  own  money  for  fuel,  lights 
and  clerk  hire  in  excess  of  allowances.  Some  fire  was 
as  essential  in  July  as  in  January,  but  the  department 
couldn't  be  made  to  understand  it. 

The  theory  of  the  law  is  that  the  Postmaster  person- 
ally shall  "write  up"  all  the  money  orders.  I  never  wrote 
one,  but  often  had  to  call  twenty  clerks  in  to  prepare  the 
day's  money  order  business  for  the  mails. 

Suitably  framed  in  the  Postmaster's  room  is  a  tel- 
egram from  the  Postmaster  General,  felicitating  the  of- 
fice on  having  sold  more  money  orders  in  a  single  day 
than  any  other  office  in  the  United  States ! 

In  addition  to  money  orders  paid,  I  remitted  to  the 
Sub-Treasury  at  St.  Louis,  during  my  entire  term,  an 
average  of  $1,000  a  day  on  that  account.  The  money 
order  business  was  half  that  of  St.  Louis,  three  times 
that  of  St.  Paul,  four  times  that  of  Kansas  City.  For- 
eign orders  aggregated  $100,000.  And  this  when  the 
city's  population  had  fallen  to  40,000. 

The  postoffice  was  the  miner's  bank.  No  one  ever 
doubted  Uncle  Sam's  solvency.  Miners  would  purchase 
orders  to  the  limit,  payable  to  themselves,  and  renew 
them  at  the  expiration  of  the  time  limit. 

The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  and  the  Union  Pacific 
railways  had  parallel  lines  extending  from  Leadville 
into  the  "Blue  River  country,"  over  the  Continental  di- 
vide. The  principal  towns  of  that  district,  Kokomo  and 
Robinson,  twenty  miles  distant,  were  served  with  mail 


[223] 


from  my  office,  the  Union  Pacific,  because  of  its  enor- 
mous indebtedness  to  the  government,  having  the  con- 
tract for  carrying  it.  Every  winter  these  branch  lines 
were  blockaded  by  snow  for  varying  periods.  In  the 
winter  of  1883  the  blockade  on  the  Rio  Grande  lasted  six 
weeks,  on  the  Union  Pacific  five  months.  There  were 
localities  where  the  snow  banked  up  fifty  feet  in  height, 
defying  rotary  snow  plows. 

When  trains  ceased  running,  I  wired  the  department, 
suggesting  a  snow  shoe  service  for  dispatch  of  first-class 
mail  only. 

This  was  adopted,  and  three  times  a  week  my  lusty 
fellows,  selected  with  reference  to  their  experience  in 
mountain  climbing,  floundered  through  the  drifts  with 
their  precious  burdens,  often  supplemented  with  medi- 
cine or  other  necessaries  for  the  people  along  the  route 
who  had  no  other  means  of  communication  with  the  out- 
side world. 

When  the  Rio  Grande  resumed  operations,  I  wired 
the  department  for  authority  to  pouch  mails  over  that 
line,  but  this  was  refused,  and  until  the  Union  Pacific 
line  was  re-opened,  two  months  later,  the  snow-shoe  ser- 
vice was  continued;  nor  would  the  department  permit 
the  carriers  to  ride  with  their  burdens  on  the  trains  of 
the  road  in  operation. 

Early  one  frosty  morning  a  messenger  hastily  sum- 
moned me  to  the  office,  to  witness  a  strange  spectacle  and 
to  solve  a  perplexing  problem.  I  found  a  number  of 
clothes  lines  stretched*across  the  mailing  room,  a  boiler 
full  of  water  on  the  big  stove,  and  a  wash  tub  and  wash- 
board arranged  on  two  chairs.  The  night  mailing  clerk, 
Jack  Duggan,  up  to  that  time  a  most  dependable  fellow, 
had  made  all  arrangements  for  washing  the  letters,  and 
when  I  arrived  was  about  to  dump  the  contents  of  a  reg- 
istered pouch  into  the  steaming  water. 

[224] 


CHARLES     BOETTCHER 

Prominent    Banker    and 

Sugar   Manufacturer 


THOS.    F.    DAILY 

Prominent    Life    Insurance 

Man 


WOLFE     LONDONER 
Pioneer    Merchant    and 
Mining     Man 


JOEL    W.     SMITH 
Pioneer  Dry  Goods  Merchant 


BENJ.     F.     STICKLEY 

Pione«r    Insurance    and. 

Real    Estate   Broker 


I  distracted  the  fellow's  attention,  pending  the  ar- 
rival of  an  officer,  and  directed  that  the  mail  he  had 
thrown  during  the  night  be  held  for  inspection.  Eighteen 
well-filled  pouches  were  gone  over,  but  not  an  error  was 
disclosed. 

And  yet  that  same  day  Clerk  Duggan  was  shown  to 
be  hopelessly  insane,  and  promptly  dispatched  to  the  asy- 
lum. 

As  Col.  Joyce  once  truthfully  said: 

"The  body,  the  tangible  pait  of  man,  can  be  easily 
nursed  back  from  a  dying  skeleton  form  to  robust  health, 
but  the  intangible,  wild,  spectral  mind,  has  no  chains  to 
bind  its  rushing  pinions,  and  no  cure  to  quiet  the  crumb- 
ling fabric  of  imagination.  The  mind  or  soul  of  man  is 
unfathomable,  and  no  plumet  has  ever  yet  been  found  to 
touch  the  bottom  of  this  universal  ocean." 

The  federal  postoffice  building,  the  appropriation  for 
which  I  labored  so  energetically  for  years  to  procure, 
came  after  my  withdrawal  from  Leadville.  A  handsome 
structure  was  erected  by  Uncle  Sam,  and  is  the  domi- 
nating architectural  feature  of  Harrison  Avenue.  So 
far  as  I  know  it  is  the  most  elevated  postoffice  on  the 
American  continent,  a  trifle  more  than  ten  thousand  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Just  as  the  finishing  touches  were  being  given  to  the 
manuscript  for  this  volume  the  fact  is  wafted  to  me  from 
across  the  snowy  ranges  that  Leadville  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  list  of  all  second-class  postoffices  in  the 
United  States  in  amount  of  postal  deposits  in  Uncle 
Sam's  bank.  It  is  second  only  to  Denver,  a  city  of  the 
first  class,  and  ranks  thirtieth  from  the  top  of  the  list  of 
all  classes,  a  most  convincing  evidence  of  the  prosperity 
and  frugality  of  the  hardy  people  of  the  mountain 
metropolis. 

[225] 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE  TERRIBLE  FATE  OF  A  POSTAL  CLERK  AND  THREE 
ASSOCIATES  IN  A  SNOWSLIDE 

In  December,  1883,  one  of  my  most  faithful  em- 
ployees, Albert  Morrison,  of  Lentonville,  New  York, 
resigned,  to  engage  in  a  mining  venture,  associating  with 
himself  three  experienced  prospectors,  Carroll,  Temple 
and  Summers.  They  had  obtained  a  favorable  lease  in 
the  old  workings  of  the  famous  Homestake  mine/  said 
to  have  been  operated  by  Spaniards  long  before  Ameri- 
can occupation.  The  mine  was  on  Homestake  mountain, 
ten  miles  west  of  Leadville,  the  tunnel  mouth  12,000  feet 
elevation. 

There  was  a  comfortable  log  cabin  on  the  claim,  an 
abundance  of  fuel  at  hand ;  and,  provided  with  an  entire 
winter's  supply  of  provisions,  the  boys  were  supposed  to 
be  amply  safe-guarded  from  harm. 

About  the  first  of  the  year  I  learned,  by  inquiry,  that 
one  of  them  had  but  recently  been  in  for  their  mail,  and 
gave  little  thought  to  the  matter  for  a  couple  of  months. 
Receiving  stamp  marks  on  their  accumulated  mail  then 
showed  that  it  had  not  been  called  for  since  the  first 
week  in  January. 

The  disclosure  gave  me  something  of  a  shock,  nor 
was  I  able  to  dispel  the  fear  that  some  calamity  had  be- 
fallen the  boys.  The  snow  was  very  deep  in  the  valley, 
and  the  mine  could  only  be  reached  on  snow-shoes.  Se- 
lecting my  most  dependable  snow-shoe  carrier,  I  dis- 
patched him  to  Homestake  mountain.  Encountering 
unlooked-for  obstacles,  the  messenger  was  late  in  return- 

[226] 


ing,  and,  as  he  re-entered  the  office,  I  read  the  result  of 
his  mission  in  every  lineament  of  his  countenance.  He 
had  met  with  no  difficulty  in  precisely  locating  the  claim, 
since  it  was  in  a  well-defined  clearing,  amidst  a  thick 
growth  of  pines,  albeit  a  rudely  painted  sign,  nailed  high 
on  a  neighboring  tree,  indicated  the  exact  locality.  But 
there  was  not  visible  a  chip,  leaf  or  other  object  to  show 
the  presence  either  of  tunnel  opening,  cabin  or  stable! 

The  terrible  truth  was  instantly  flashed  to  the  prac- 
ticed eye  of  the  messenger,  but  how  deep  the  hapless 
men  were  buried  under  that  mountain  of  snow  and  ice 
could  scarcely  be  conjectured.  Unaided  and  without 
appliances  of  any  description,  he  was  helpless  in  the 
emergency,  and  had  no  alternative  but  to  return  to  the 
city  for  aid. 

As  in  all  such  crises,  Gen'l  George  W.  Cook,  joint 
agent  of  the  railways,  was  appealed  to  by  me,  and  early 
the  following  morning  a  relief  corps  of  fifty  sturdy  men, 
supplied  with  sledges  and  tools,  set  out  for  Homestake 
mountain. 

Arriving  before  noon,  the  men  set  to  work  in  relays, 
and  before  nightfall  had  reached  the  roof  of  the  cabin, 
fifty  feet  below  the  surface.  Another  hour's  work,  and 
sufficient  snow  had  been  removed  from  a  window  to  ad- 
mit the  rescuers  to  the  interior. 

The  stillness  of  death  pervaded  the  single  room,  al- 
though three  human  forms  sat  there  as  in  life,  while  the 
outlines  of  another  were  silhouetted  in  a  corner  bunk, 
wrapped  in  a  wakeless  sleep !  This  was  Jack  Carroll. 

Opposite  each  other  at  a  table,  with  cards  before 
them  and  in  their  hands,  sat  Temple  and  Summers. 

The  clock  in  the  apartment  had  stopped  at  one  min- 
ute past  twelve,  presumably  midnight. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  at  another  little 
table,  sat  Albert  Morrison,  as  lifelike  as  when  last  I  had 

[227] 


seen  him.  He  had  been  engaged  in  writing  to  his  mother 
when  the  shock  came,  and  the  date  of  the  letter  showed 
that  the  visitation  had  occurred  six  weeks  previously. 

The  sudden  precipitation  of  thousands  of  tons  of 
snow  had  created  a  vacuum  within  the  cabin,  and  the 
death  of  the  victims  must  have  been  instantaneous. 

The  bodies  were  tenderly  raised  to  the  surface,  la- 
boriously dragged  to  the  city,  and  given  sepulture  be- 
neath the  soughing  pines  in  Evergreen,  where  so  many 
courageous  souls  have  found  peace  and  rest. 

Subsequently  a  beautiful  monument  was  erected  over 
their  graves,  dedicated  to  the  victims  of  the  fearful  ca- 
lamity. Later  I  recovered  Albert's  belongings  and  for- 
warded them  to  his  sorrowing  mother,  not  forgetting 
the  pen  with  which  he  was  writing  his  last  letter  to  her. 


[228] 


CHAPTER  LI. 

LOT  AND  MINE  JUMPING — TRAGIC  OCCURRENCES — Two 
MEN  JIBBETED — MINES  FORTIFIED 

Between  January  and  June,  1879,  the  population  of 
Leadville  was  augmented  by  fully  60,000  people.  The 
housing  of  such  a  multitude  was  a  tremendous  under- 
taking, when  is  considered  the  fact  that  every  item  enter- 
ing into  construction  had  to  be  hauled  in  wagons  three 
hundred  miles  over  rough  roads,  crossing  mountain 
ranges  from  one  to  two  miles  above  the  sea.  Houses 
could  not  be  built  fast  enough  to  accommodate  the  in- 
rush, and  hundreds  were  forced  to  live  in  brush  shacks 
and  dug-outs.  Many  had  no  fixed  habitation,  and  what 
sleep  they  got  was  on  the  floors  of  saloons  and  dance 
halls. 

A  monster  "Wigwam,"  that  had  been  hastily  thrown 
up  in  the  fall  of  78,  to  accommodate  political  meetings, 
was  provided  with  bunks,  and  in  these  a  full  thousand 
men  were  accommodated.  The  thousand  narrow  beds, 
provided  with  straw  mattresses  and  pillows  and  a  few 
army  blankets,  yielded  a  thousand  dollars  a  night.  Its 
thrifty  owner,  Thomas  Agnew,  once  Mayor  of  New 
York  City,  took  a  fortune  out  of  the  Wigwam  the  first 
season  and  returned  to  the  metropolis. 

Harrison  avenue  was  extended  to  Capital  hill,  a  mile 
north  of  California  gulch,  and  several  parallel  streets 
were  carried  a  like  distance,  while  a  dozen  other  streets 
crossed  them  at  right  angles.  The  work  of  construction 
never  for  a  moment  ceased,  and  the  sound  of  hammer 
and  saw  was  heard  all  the  night  through,  great  bonfires 

[229] 


illuminating  the  sky  in  all  directions  and  adding  to  the 
weirdness  of  the  scene. 

Realty  values  advanced  in  correspondence  with  the 
demand,  and  fortunes  were  made  in  the  buying  and  sell- 
ing of  town  lots.  When,  in  the  early  part  of  '79,  Col.  W. 
H.  Bush  purchased  avenue  frontage  one  block  beyond 
the  Chronicle  office,  on  the  basis  of  one  dollar  a  foot, 
many  thought  him  crazy,  but  those  same  lots,  three 
months  later,  were  worth  one  thousand  dollars  a  front 
foot! 

Only  squatter  titles  were  secured.  It  is  not  strange 
that  such  an  active  market  should  have  encouraged  lot- 
jumping.  As  a  matter  of  fact  one  Frodsham,  a  "gun 
man"  from  the  Black  Hills,  organized  a  band  of  lot- 
jumpers,  which  went  into  the  nefarious  business  in  a 
wholesale  way.  It  was  not  an  unusual  thing  for  this 
gang  to  hitch  horses  to  a  cabin  at  night,  pull  it  into  the 
street,  and  substitute  one  of  their  own,  or  take  and  hold 
possession  at  point  of  rifle  or  revolver.  Courageous 
owners  of  property,  thus  deprived,  rarely  submitted 
without  a  struggle,  and  numerous  fatal  encounters  re- 
sulted. Finally,  the  operations  of  this  gang  of  profess- 
ional lot-jumpers  became  unbearable,  and  one  frosty 
morning  in  November  the  bodies  of  Frodsham  and  one 
Stewart  were  found  dangling  in  the  air  on  the  frame 
work  of  the  County  Court  House,  in  course  of  erection. 
This  summary  proceeding  gave  a  check  to  the  business 
of  night  conveyancing  of  realty. 

I  recall  a  humorous  incident  of  this  era,  in  which  the 
pioneer  Methodist  minister,  Rev.  Tom  Uzzell,  figured 
as  the  hero.  Visiting  the  site  of  the  First  Methodist 
church,  a  lot  donated  for  the  purpose,  the  parson  found 
men  unloading  lumber  upon  it.  Seeing  that  they  were 
not  disposed  to  listen  to  his  wordy  protest,  Tom  stripped 
off  coat  and  vest,  and  made  such  a  determined  assault 

[230] 


upon  the  invaders  of  the  sacred  lot  as  to  induce  them  to 
desist.  Later,  Tom  said  to  me :  "I  made  up  my  mind 
if  the  Lord  wanted  me  to  recover  that  lot,  He  would  give 
me  strength  to  lick  those  fellows.  And  the  result 
showed  that  He  was  on  my  side!" 

A  personal  experience  may  be  worth  the  relation.  It 
had  occurred  to  me  as  the  part  of  wisdom  to  secure  a  site 
for  a  home  before  values  got  beyond  my  purse;  and, 
buying  a  lot  on  West  Ninth  street,  I  caused  it  to  be 
enclosed  with  a  fence  and  a  shack  erected  upon  it,  a  pro- 
ceeding recognized  as  essential  to  hold  title.  Some 
weeks  later  I  went  out  to  view  my  possession,  and  was 
surprised  to  see  smoke  issuing  from  a  stove  pipe  project- 
ing through  the  roof.  I  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  burly 
six-foot  ruffian,  with  a  huge  revolver  in  his  belt,  and  back 
of  him  were  a  number  of  other  vicious-looking  charac- 
ters. If  I  had  approached  with  any  idea  of  making  a 
blustering  demand,  I  quickly  abandoned  the  purpose,  and 
meekly  inquired  of  the  party  barring  the  door  how  he 
became  possessed  of  the  property. 

Politely  enough  he  assured  me  he  had  leased  it,  and 
paid  two  months'  rent  in  advance,  giving  name  and  loca- 
tion of  lessor. 

I  repaired  to  the  locality  indicated,  a  tent  on  what 
now  is  State  Street,  and  there,  stretched  on  a  cot  within 
was  another  formidable  character,  who,  without  rising, 
and  in  answer  to  my  interrogations,  said  he  had  bought 
the  lot  in  question  of  a  party  who  since  had  "gone  over 
into  the  Gunnison  country." 

I  realized  instinctively  that  he  was  lying,  and  that 
only  by  running  a  big  bluff  on  him  could  I  hope  to  force 
a  surrender. 

On  a  table  in  front  of  him  I  laid  the  squatter's  deed 
to  the  lot  and  carpenter's  receipt  for  the  improvements, 
and  alongside  these  documents  I  placed  the  most  con- 

[231] 


vincing  evidence  of  title  one  can  possess  in  a  mining 
camp,  a  murderous-looking  six  shooter. 

"Now,  see  here,  my  man,  that  lot  is  mine,  and  I  pro- 
pose to  have  it.  I  am  doing  business  at  221  Harrison 
avenue,  and  I  will  give  you  just  twenty-four  hours  in 
which  to  get  those  men  out  of  the  cabin  and  bring  the  key 
to  my  office." 

With  that,  I  replaced  the  papers  and  gun  in  my  pock- 
ets and  backed  out  into  the  street. 

Brave?  Not  on  your  life!  Had  twenty- four  years 
elapsed,  I  should  never  have  gone  in  search  of  that  fel- 
low again! 

But  the  Chronicle,  at  that  time,  was  making  a  most 
determined  fight  on  the  lot-jumpers,  and  urging  the  peo- 
ple to  organize  for  their  protection;  "221  Harrison  ave- 
nue" was  as  well  known  to  the  rascals  as  "26  Broadway" 
has  since  come  to  be  recognized  as  the  home  of  the 
Standard  Oil  Company,  and  within  two  hours  the  key 
to  my  Capital  hill  lot  was  thrown  on  to  the  counter  of 
the  Chronicle  office. 

Later  unassailable  titles  to  city  property  were  made 
by  the  Smelting  company,  and  this,  coupled  with  the 
Frodsham-Stewart  episode,  brought  an  end  to  lot  jump- 
ing. 

The  unlawful  seizure  of  property,  however,  was  not 
confined  to  city  lots.  Mine-jumping  was  quite  as  com- 
mon, and  infinitely  more  profitable.  The  slightest  error 
in  primary  surveys  or  setting  of  stakes,  the  least  varia- 
tion from  the  procedure  defined  by  the  mining  laws  of 
the  district  and  government  statutes,  invited  the  institu- 
tion of  adverse  claims,  and  so  frequently  were  these  filed 
in  the  local  office  that  it  came  to  be  an  axiom  that  a  mine 
couldn't  be  very  valuable  unless  adversed. 

Had  rival  claimants  been  disposed  to  await  the  lum- 
bering processes  of  the  civil  courts,  there  would  have 

[232] 


IBEX    MINK 
Working   Force    Posed    for    this    Volume 


IBEX   MIX:: 
Loading    Ore    (Samples    of   Gold    in    Show    Cases   Superimposed) 


been  less  friction,  and  tragedies  would  not  have  been  of 
such  frequent  occurrence.  The  inducement  to  gain 
possession  of  mines,  by  whatever  questionable  means, 
and  secure  the  enormous  treasure  they  contained,  were 
great,  and  respect  for  law  and  order  lapsed  into  a  remi- 
niscence. A  well-stocked  arsenal  came  to  be  considered 
as  essential  an  adjunct  to  a  producing  mine  as  engine  or 
hoist. 

The  most  noted  incident  of  record  was  the  attempt 
of  adverse  claimants  to  secure  possession  of  the  Iron- 
Silver  mine,  a  vast  property,  with  fifty  miles  of  under- 
ground workings,  and  millions  in  dividends  to  stock- 
holders. For  years  Col.  Stocking,  a  noted  "gun  man," 
with  an  effective  fighting  force  of  fifty  men,  guarded  the 
portals  of  the  mine  night  and  day,  while  within  the  in- 
clines and  tunnels  several  brass  cannon  were  mounted. 
Litigation  over  title  to  this  property  ran  through  a  whole 
decade,  and  in  this  behalf  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dol- 
lars were  paid  in  costs  and  legal  fees. 

Soon  after  title  was  quieted  in  the  federal  supreme 
court,  "Uncle  Billy  Stevens,"  principal  owner,  died  at 
his  home  in  Detroit.  He  had  become  so  familiar  a  figure 
in  the  courts,  it  was  jocularly  said  he  had  no  desire  to 
live  after  all  cause  for  litigation  had  been  removed! 

Another  fruitful  source  of  litigation,  more  legiti- 
mate, yet  scarcely  less  costly  and  irritating,  related  to 
the  right  of  the  discoverer  to  follow  the  vein  beyond  the 
side  lines  of  his  claim.  This  was  known  as  the  "apex 
question,"  and  ran  its  course  through  all  of  the  courts. 
The  law  is  plain,  but  so  palpably  unjust  that  no  local 
jury  could  ever  be  induced  to  find  in  accordance  with  the 
statutes.  The  result  was  that  whereas  litigants  invari- 
ably won  their  contention  in  the  lower  courts,  the  su- 
preme tribunal  at  Washington  would  as  invariably  re- 
verse the  decisions  of  the  nisi  prius  courts.  The  law  on 

[233] 


this  subject  is  clearly  against  public  policy,  since  it  en- 
ables the  discoverer  of  the  apex  of  a  vein  to  follow  its 
sinuous  course  indefinitely,  and  thus  practically  monopo- 
lize the  mineralized  section  of  an  entire  mountain,  if 
not  a  whole  district.  Some  valuable  claims  were  lost  to 
their  owners  through  financial  inability  to  carry  on  the 
contest. 

To  illustrate  what  advantage  was  taken  of  technical- 
ities to  obtain  possession  of  mines  the  case  of  sundry 
persons  versus  the  Morning  and  Evening  Star  Combi- 
nation is  in  point.  The  properties  were  worth  millions ; 
the  shares  had  appreciated  from  $5  to  $35  before  steps 
were  taken  to  obtain  a  patent.  The  application  was 
brought  to  my  office  for  insertion  in  the  evening  edition. 
It  appeared  in  the  issue  of  that  day,  with  the  foot  note 
appended  to  all  such  advertisements,  for  the  convenience 

of  lawyers  and  applicants,  "First  publication, 

1879,  last  publication ,  1879."     The  cost 

of  the  advertisement  in  a  daily  paper  was  deemed  exces- 
sive, and  the  parties  in  interest  decided,  after  the  first 
publication,  to  switch  it  to  the  weekly  publication.  This 
was  done,  the  advertisement  appearing  in  the  weekly 
issue  three  days  later.  But,  through  inadvertance,  the 
dates  of  first  and  last  publication,  as  they  appeared  in 
the  daily,  were  not  changed.  The  fact  was  discovered, 
the  true  dates  appended,  and  the  application  was  pub- 
lished the  full  ninety  days  required  by  the  statutes.  An 
adverse  claim,  based  upon  nothing  more  substantial  than 
this  slight  "bobble,"  which,  as  shown,  was  promptly  cor- 
rected and  the  law  in  all  respects  rigidly  complied  with, 
was  filed,  and  the  case  went  up  to  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States.  My  deposition  was  taken,  in  which 
everything  connected  with  the  publication  was  clearly 
elucidated.  The  brief  of  counsel  for  the  adverse  claim- 
ant, with  voluminous  citation  of  authorities,  made  a 
tome  of  twelve  hundred  pages !  In  the  stubbornly  fought 
contest,  occupying  the  attention  of  nisi  pruis  and  su- 
preme courts  of  State  and  Nation  for  months,  and 

[234] 


extending  over  years  of  time,  not  another  point  was 
raised,  not  another  contention  made,  except  the  one  here 
noted,  and  upon  that  flimsy  pretext  it  was  sought  to 
wrest  from  original  discoverers  and  rightful  owners  one 
of  the  most  valuable  mines  ever  located.  The  Supreme 
Court  brushed  it  aside,  as  unworthy  of  consideration, 
and  handed  down  a  decision  in  favor  of  the  Star  owners. 
The  Court  held  that,  in  any  event,  the  foot  note  was  no 
part  of  the  advertisement,  not  having  been  authorized, 
and  a  matter  wholly  beyond  control  of  the  applicants  for 
patent.  But  the  litigation  ensuing  cost  the  parties  to  it 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  in  counsel  fees  and 
court  costs. 


[235] 


CHAPTER  LII. 

RIOT  OF  CORRUPTION  IN  PUBLIC  OFFICE — FRIGHTFUL 
CRIMES  AND  ACCIDENTS 

On  the  civic  side  remarkable  things  were  happening, 
while  public  attention  was  centered  upon  the  intense  and 
exciting  quest  for  mineral  wealth,  with  the  side  issues  of 
lot  and  mine-jumping,  the  housing  of  people,  and  the 
daily  recurring  clashes  between  the  quasi  outlaws  and 
the  law-and-order  element.  An  avenue  was  thus  opened 
for  designing  men  of  another  class  to  seize  the  public 
offices,  and  inaugurate  a  systematic  campaign  of  plunder 
by  taxation. 

The  fee  system  was  in  vogue,  and,  however  just  un- 
der normal  conditions,  it  served  a  vicious  purpose  at  that 
period  in  increasing  the  pay  of  county  officials  to  an  ab- 
surd limit.  The  income  of  the  county  clerk  reached 
$60,000  per  annum;  sheriff,  $50,000,  assessor,  $30,000, 
and  proportionately  down  the  line. 

Unscrupulous  men  could,  and  did,  spend  fabulous 
sums  in  the  open  corruption  of  voters.  So  bold  did  they 
become  that  workers  at  the  polls  thought  nothing  of 
handing  tickets  to  voters  with  a  five  dollar  note  attached 
to  each ;  while  others  would  herd  gangs  of  men  in  neigh- 
boring saloons,  march  them  to  the  polls,  and  exchange 
currency  for  their  tickets  of  identification,  just  outside 
the  voting  booth! 

Public  morality,  thus  contaminated,  naturally  became 
very  low,  and  the  better  element  suffered  long  and  griev- 
iously  before  adopting  relief  measures.  When  once 

[236] 


aroused  to  their  peril,  albeit  this  did  not  occur  until  city 
and  county  were  hopelessly  in  debt,  the  measures  adopted 
lacked  not  in  vigor  or  strenuosity. 

Upon  one  occasion,  General  W.  H.  James  rallied  to 
his  side  a  hundred  determined  citizens  and  marched  to 
the  court  house,  at  noon  one  day,  when  the  Board  of 
County  Commissioners  was  in  session. 

Addressing  the  Chairman,  the  General  pointed  out 
a  number  of  particularly  illegal  and  rascally  transactions 
of  which  the  Board  had  been  guilty,  and  warned  the 
members  that  if  the  robbery  of  the  public  did  not  at  once 
cease  the  last  one  of  them  would  be  taken  out  and 
hanged ! 

One  fact  shown  was  that  it  was  costing  $14  a  day  for 
maintaining  each  public  charge  in  the  poor  house. 

Another  fact  pointed  out  was  that  a  small  brick  out- 
building in  the  court  house  yard,  which  any  honest  con- 
tractor would  have  erected  for  $100,  had  cost  the  people 
$5,000. 

One  member  of  the  Board  had  urgent  business  call- 
ing him  to  Denver  that  evening,  and  he  never  returned! 
None  of  his  companions  in  crime  dared  present  them- 
selves for  re-election. 

Murders  were  so  frequent  as  no  longer  to  command 
particular  attention,  unless  the  principals  chanced  to 
be  men  of  great  prominence,  as  sometimes  happened.  I 
well  remember  an  occasion  when  my  city  reporters  were 
called  upon  to  cover  five  fatal  encounters  in  a  single 
night. 

Accidents  in  mines  and  smelters  were  of  almost  daily 
occurrence,  many  of  the  most  appalling  character. 

One  distressing  incident  is  worth  traversing.  George 
B.  Robinson,  a  pioneer  grocer,  had  "grub-staked"  a 
couple  of  men,  and  they  had  uncovered  the  fabulous 
riches  of  the  Robinson  mine,  on  Sheep  mountain,  a  prop- 

[237] 


erty  capitalized  at  $20,000,000,  and  that  had  paid  hand- 
some interest  in  dividends  on  that  sum. 

Robinson  was  a  man  of  education,  culture  and  broad 
experience.  He  had  failed  in  the  banking  business  in 
Michigan,  came  to  Leadville  in  the  early  day,  with  the 
remnant  of  a  fortune,  and  was  struggling  to  get  on  his 
feet  again  at  the  time  of  the  lucky  strike.  His  character 
and  attainments  had  been  recognized  by  his  nomination 
and  election  as  Lieutenant  Governor,  a  position  he  was 
destined  never  to  fill.  Before  the  date  set  for  inaugur- 
ation he  received  intelligence  that  an  adverse  claimant  to 
his  mining  property  had  gathered  a  posse  of  one  hundred 
men,  with  the  purpose  of  capturing  the  mine  by  force 
of  arms. 

Mr.  Robinson  had  the  tunnel  entrance  barricaded, 
and  instructed  the  guard  within  to  fire  at  the  approach 
of  any  one  during  the  night  without  waiting  to  challenge. 

Before  retiring  at  a  near-by  lodging,  he  bethought 
himself  of  an  additional  instruction,  and  upon  his  ap- 
proach to  the  portal  of  the  tunnel  the  faithful  guard, 
acting  upon  his  employer's  own  instructions,  shot 
through  the  door,  killing  him  instantly. 

A  week  prior  to  this  lamentable  tragedy  Mr.  Robin- 
son had  taken  an  option  on  the  Denver  Tribune  with  the 
purpose  of  placing  me  in  charge,  ostensibly  to  give  the 
property  to  me,  as  a  recognition  of  my  efforts  in  securing 
his  nomination  and  election  as  Lieutenant-Governor.  He 
was  to  take  up  the  option  upon  his  return  from  that  fatal 
visit  to  the  mine.  The  incident  forcibly  illustrates  the 
slenderness  of  the  thread  upon  which  often  hang  mo- 
mentous events.  Mr.  Robinson's  untimely  death  was  a 
distinct  loss  to  the  State.  What  it  meant  to  me  may  only 
be  conjectured. 


[238] 


CHAPTER  LIIL 

VISITED  BY  GEN'L  GRANT,  PRESIDENT  HARRISON, 
VANDERBILT  AND  THE  GOULDS 

The  advent  of  the  two  pioneer  railways  into  Lead- 
ville  effected  great  changes  in  the  economic  life  of  the 
community,  and  in  the  development  of  the  mining  and 
smelting  industries.  The  immediate  effect  was  depress- 
ing since  a  hundred  railway  employees  could  perform 
what  had  given  employment  to  many  thousand  team- 
sters, and  the  withdrawal  of  that  element  was  at  once 
felt  by  all  engaged  in  any  way  in  supplying  their  require- 
ments. The  theatres,  saloons  and  dance  halls  were  the 
heaviest  sufferers,  since  it  was  this  class,  rather  than 
the  sturdy  miners,  who  constituted  their  chief  patrons, 
and  who  contributed  vastly  more  to  the  early  reputation 
of  the  place  for  immorality  and  crime. 

But  this  loss  was  more  than  offset  by  the  advantages 
of  rail  connection  with  the  outside  world.  It  was  now 
possible  to  ship  low  grade  ore,  a  relief  to  mine  owners, 
if  detrimental  to  local  smelters;  but  perhaps  the  major 
benefit  was  comprehended  in  the  bringing  in  of  a  better, 
if  not  quite  so  courageous,  an  element,  representative  of 
the  more  influential  capitalistic  class,  that  awaited  the 
Pullman  car. 

Leadville  was  approaching  an  era  of  deeper  mining, 
where  larger  sums  were  needed  to  carry  on  greater  min- 
ing ventures,  and  this  class  usually  has  to  be  shown. 
The  registers  of  the  Tabor,  Windsor,  Grand,  Clarendon 
and  Vendome  Hotels  contain  many  illustrious  names, 
and  the  visit  of  some  of  them  was  attended  by  events 

[239] 


of  more  than  ordinary  interest  and  significance.  Among 
these  I  recall  the  names  of  General  U.  S.  Grant,  Col. 
Fred  Grant,  President  Harrison,  General  W.  T.  Sher- 
man, Justice  Gray,  the  Duke  of  Portland,  Governor 
Oglesby,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  Commodore  Vander- 
bilt,  Jay  Gould,  and  many  other  statesmen,  soldiers,  cap- 
tains of  finance,  scholars  and  savants. 

The  visit  of  General  Grant  was  particularly  notable, 
since  he  and  his  retinue  were  passengers  on  the  first  train 
entering  the  city,  in  August,  1880.  Accompanying  him 
were  Mrs.  Grant,  Col.  Fred  Grant,  and  wife,  and  all 
who  had  followed  him  in  his  historic  tour  of  the  world. 
The  party  came  to  stay  a  day;  it  remained  three  days. 

Being  a  member  of  a  committee  sent  to  Canon  City 
to  receive  and  accompany  the  General  to  Leadville,  I  had 
rare  opportunity,  in  the  three  hours  run,  to  enjoy  his 
companionship.  Assuming  that  the  General  might  de- 
sire to  learn  something  of  the  history  and  development 
of  State  and  section,  the  committee  had  chosen  me  to  act 
as  his  mentor,  a  distinction  of  which  I  at  the  time  felt 
exceedingly  proud,  but  all  of  my  well  nurtured  conceit 
had  vanished  before  the  journey  had  fairly  been  entered 
upon.  I  found  that  he  knew  more  about  the  State  than 
I  did.  Soon  I  became  an  interested  listener  to  historical 
facts  with  which  I  was  not  at  all  familiar.  His  fund  of 
information  regarding  Colorado  seemed  inexhaustible. 

Just  as  a  blood-red  sun  was  dropping  out  of  sight 
behind  the  battlements  of  Mount  Massive,  our  train  came 
within  sight  of  the  Magic  City,  the  entire  population  of 
which  lined  the  right  of  way  for  a  distance  of  miles, 
awaiting  arrival  of  the  first  train  with  its  distinguished 
guests.  It  was  before  the  days  of  electricity,  but  great 
bonfires  illuminated  the  way,  and  gave  added  glamour 
to  the  wonderfully  inspiring  scene.  General  Geo.  W. 
Cook's  famous  Drum  Corps  led  the  procession  through 

[240] 


Mount    of    the    Holy    Cross.    Near    Leadvilk- 
Glimpse    of    Twin    Lakes.    Near    Leadville,     12.000    Feet    Elevation 

Siesta   of   Two   Weary   Willies   in   the   Upper    Altitudes 
Evergreen    Lake,    a    Scenic    Feature    of    Leadville's    Environs 


the  principal  streets,  followed  by  thousands  of  ex-Fed- 
eral and  Confederate  veterans,  lending  to  the  function 
a  distinctively  martial  coloring. 

General  Grant's  first  day  in  Leadville  was  spent  in 
visiting  the  mines  and  smelters,  the  second  day  he  gave 
audience  to  his  old  comrades  of  the  Grand  Army,  and 
his  visit  terminated  in  a  banquet  at  the  Clarendon  Hotel, 
participated  in  by  hundreds  of  distinguished  visitors  and 
men  of  local  renown. 

Just  before  the  close  of  the  banquet,  Col.  A.  V.  Bohn 
addressed  the  guest  of  the  evening  as  follows : 

"Because  of  the  extreme  modesty  of  Mr.  Davis,  I 
have  been  selected  as  the  bearer  to  you  of  this  beautiful 
souvenir  of  your  visit  to  Leadville,  a  copy  of  the  Evening 
Chronicle  of  the  23d  instant,  entirely  printed  on  white 
satin,  and  containing  a  report  of  your  reception.  It  is 
the  pioneer  paper  of  this  city — a  paper,  sir,  that  brought 
your  name  prominently  before  us  at  an  early  day  as  the 
candidate  of  the  Republican  party  for  President  of  the 
United  States  in  1880,  a  sentiment  that  met  the  appro- 
bation and  expressed  the  wishes  of  the  masses  of  the 
American  people,  if  not  that  of  the  politicians,  and  that 
now  places  your  name  at  its  mast  head  for  the  campaign 
of  1884." 

General  Grant  made  suitable  response,  saying  he 
should  remember  it  among  the  most  cherished  trophies 
gathered  in  his  world  tour.  The  copy  of  the  Chronicle, 
with  other  souvenirs,  is  preserved  in  a  show  case  in  the 
Smithsonian  Institution  at  Washington,  all  having  been 
bequeathed  to  the  government  upon  the  death  of  the 
illustrious  general  and  statesman. 

Another  ex-President  visited  Leadville  at  a  later 
period,  accompanied  by  a  retinue  of  distinguished  peo- 
ple, each  of  whom  was  presented  with  a  silver  brick  as 
a  souvenir.  That  for  Mr.  Harrison  weighed  eight 

[241] 


pounds,  999  fine,  suitably  engraved,  and  was  presented 
by  Judge  Luther  M.  Goddard. 

The  party  reached  the  city  at  sunrise,  and  were 
driven  to  the  Vendome  hotel,  around  which,  notwith- 
standing the  early  hour,  thousands  of  curious  people  had 
assembled  to  emphasize  the  genuineness  of  their  patri- 
otic welcome.  At  7  a.  m.  Mr.  Harrison,  from  the  bal- 
cony of  the  hotel,  addressed  the  multitude,  saying,  among 
other  things : 

"This  scene  this  morning  is  one  that  should  inspire 
the  dullest  heart.  This  rare,  pure  atmosphere;  this 
bright  sunshine;  these;  colors;  this  multitude,  lifting 
smiling  faces  to  greet  us,  is  a  scene  that  should  lift  the 
dullest  heart  to  emotions  of  thankfulness  and  pride, 
pride  wholly  separated  from  personal  considerations, 
and  pride  that  is  swelled  up  by  the  contemplation  that  all 
this  is  the  outcome,  the  manifestation,  the  culmination, 
of  free  American  institutions.  We  stand  here  today  on 
the  mountain  top,  and  see  what  I  think  is  the  highest  evi- 
dence of  American  pluck  to  be  found  in  the  United 
States.  I  have  addressed  my  fellow-citizens  on  many 
thousand  occasions,  but  I  have  never  stood  before  so 
near  the  dome.  It  is  a  wonderful  testimony  to  the  energy 
and  adaptation  of  the  American  that  he  should  have 
pushed  his  way  to  this  high  altitude,  above  the  snow  line, 
and  created  these  magnificent  and  extensive  industries, 
and  these  beautiful  and  happy  homes.  I  rejoice  with 
you  in  all  that  has  been  accomplished  here.  I  bring 
thanks  to  you  for  the  great  contribution  you  have  made 
to  the  wealth  of  the  country  we  all  love.  You  have  not 
got  above  the  high  reach  of  our  affections  and  of  our 
consideration.  I  do  most  sincerely  thank  you  for  this 
token  of  the  product  of  your  mines.  It  is  a  precious 
metal,  but  much  more  precious  to  me  is  the  kindly 
thought  of  the  generous  welcome  which  you  have  given 
us  here  in  Leadville  today.  I  give  you  a  most  cordial 
salutation  and  regretful  good-bye." 


[242] 


Upon  the  occasion  of  a  visit  to  the  city  by  Commo- 
dore Vanderbilt,  and  a  party  of  distinguished  railroad 
officials,  my  reporters  were  tipped  off  with  the  outline  of 
a  well-devised  plot  to  take  the  Commodore  from  the  train 
at  a  lonely  spot  near  Hill  Top,  conceal  him  in  a  deserted 
tunnel,  and  hold  him  for  a  heavy  ransom. 

Local  sleuths,  aided  by  my  reporters,  disclosed  suf- 
ficient evidence  to  warrant  the  institution  of  prompt 
measures  to  circumvent  the  plotters.  It  at  first  was 
deemed  sufficient  to  send  an  ample  guard  with  the  train, 
but  at  the  last  moment  a  safer  plan  was  devised.  The 
Commodore's  special  train,  with  a  heavily  armed  guard, 
was  dispatched  in  accordance  with  the  published  sched- 
ule, but  the  outlaws  obviously  got  information  that  their 
wealthy  quarry  was  not  aboard,  and  it  passed  Hill  Top 
at  slow  speed  unmolested,  while  the  Commodore,  in  an- 
other car  on  the  other  road,  departed  in  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent direction. 

Mr.  Vanderbilt  did  not  leave  the  State  without  suit- 
able acknowledgment  of  the  valued  service  rendered  him 
by  the  argus-eyed  reporters  of  the  Herald  Democrat  and 
the  Chronicle.  But  he  thereafter  eliminated  Leadville 
from  his  calling  list. 

Interest  in  his  Colorado  railway  investments  later 
brought  Jay  Gould  to  the  city  on  a  tour  of  inspection, 
and  upon  this  occasion  he  was  accompanied  by  his 
daughters,  Anna,  who  became  the  Countess  de  Castel- 
lane,  and  later  Princess  de  Sagan;  and  Helen,  who  de- 
nied herself  the  bliss  of  matrimony  until  near  the  half 
century  mark.  The  prominence  of  these  women  in  the 
public  eye  for  over  thirty  years  warrants  this  brief  retro- 
spective glance  at  them,  as  they  appeared  to  me  in  the 
summer  of  1883,  when  both  were  in  their  early  teens. 

Although  traveling  in  a  special  train  de  luxe,  with 
all  of  the  comforts  and  luxuries  that  the  name  implies, 

[243] 


the  two  girls,  in  their  outward  appearance,  gave  no  token 
of  their  wealth  and  station.  They  were  most  modestly 
attired  in  inexpensive  dresses,  without  any  jeweled 
adornment  whatsoever,  while  their  attitude  and  bearing 
corresponded  with  their  toilets.  Under  acceptable  cicer- 
onage,  a  police  detail,  and  myself,  the  girls  took  in  Lead- 
ville  by  gas  light,  viewing  what  usually  most  interests 
the  average  tourist  in  the  wild  and  woolly  West — the 
gambling  palaces,  dance  halls,  opium  joints,  and  other 
dens  of  iniquity. 

I  remember  to  this  day  the  expression  of  pity  and 
commiseration  worn  by  Helen  Gould  as  she  passed  from 
place  to  place,  and  witnessed,  with  her  own  eyes,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  young  life,  the  degradation  to 
which  sin  brings  mankind,  and  especially  the  represen- 
tatives of  her  own  sex.  There  was  absent  that  manifes- 
tation of  morbid  curiosity  so  conspicuous  in  the  counte- 
nances of  other  members  of  the  party,  and  of  the  mem- 
bers of  numberless  other  parties  whom  I  had  escorted 
through  the  same  abodes  of  crime  and  iniquity,  and  in 
its  place  was  a  singular  expression  of  regret,  of  pity,  and 
commiseration. 

These  girls  were  distinguished  from  others  that  had 
visited  "the  wickedest  city  on  earth/'  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, only  by  reason  of  their  prospective  great 
wealth,  and  whereas  the  attitude  and  conduct  of  Helen 
Gould  impressed  me  as  quite  out  of  the  ordinary,  it  of 
course  did  not  occur  to  me  that  in  the  years  following  her 
name  would  become  hallowed  in  every  American  home, 
because  of  a  life  unselfishly  devoted  to  the  amelioration 
of  suffering  humanity,  or  that  the  first  resolution  to  be 
introduced  in  the  Congress  of  a  great  nation,  following 
the  termination  of  a  sanguinary  war  with  a  foreign 
power,  would  breathe  the  gratitude  of  seventy-five 
million  people  to  the  little  girl  I  saw  in  a  modest  calico 

[244] 


dress,  for  her  ministrations  to  sick  and  dying  soldiers  in 
hospital  and  field,  or  that,  consistent  with  her  uniform 
bearing  throughout  a  long  and  glorious  career,  she  would 
crown  her  life's  work  by  surrender  of  her  future  happi- 
ness to  a  plain  American  citizen,  without  other  distinc- 
tion than  relatively  humble  duty  faithfully  performed. 

I  desire  to  draw  no  invidious  comparisons  of  the  two 
sisters.  Rather  am  I  inclined  to  the  belief  that  Anna, 
too,  in  a  different  atmosphere,  and  in  a  widely  contrast- 
ing way,  has  done  and  is  doing  much  good  in  the  gay 
city  in  which  she  lives.  But  Mrs.  Finley  Johnson  Shep- 
herd, nee  Helen  Gould,  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
"charity  begins  at  home,"  has  certainly  given  greater 
warrant  for  the  unstinted  praise  showered  upon  her  by 
the  people  of  two  continents. 


[245] 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

ERA  OF  LEGITIMATE  ACTING — THEATRE  IN  A  TENT 
STRONG  STOCK  COMBINATIONS 

Vaudeville  theatres  and  concert  halls,  allow  me  to  say 
again,  were  features  of  the  earliest  settlement  of  Lead- 
ville,  and,  because  of  the  extraordinary  patronage 
showered  upon  them,  reaped  golden  harvests  from  all 
classes.  But  it  was  not  until  the  spring  of  79  that  a 
legitimate  theatre  opened  its  flap  to  the  public — I  say 
"flap"  instead  of  door,  because  the  initial  theatre  was  a 
monster  tent,  the  stage  built  of  unsurfaced  boards,  the 
drop  curtain  and  other  accessories  of  the  most  primitive 
character. 

A  well-balanced  stock  company  from  the  Forrester 
Opera  House,  Denver,  filled  a  protracted  engagement 
with  standard  comedies  and  dramas,  with  Nick  Forres- 
ter, a  popular  pioneer  comedian,  in  the  title  roles. 

Before  the  close  of  the  first  year  H.  A.  W.  Tabor 
gave  to  the  city  a  handsome  two-story  brick  theater, 
pronounced  the  finest  west  of  Chicago,  and  which  bore 
the  name  of  Tabor  Opera  House  for  twenty-five  years. 
It  then  was  purchased  by  Charley  Vivian's  lodge  and 
re-christened  "Elk's  Opera  House."  The  house  was 
dedicated,  as  was  its  canvas  predecessor,  by  a  strong 
company,  of  which  Phosa  McAllister,  long  a  popular 
Western  comedienne,  was  the  leading  lady. 

The  Chestnut  Street  Theater  and  Wood's  Opera 
House  followed,  and  in  these  several  places,  as  time 
passed,  the  best  known  actors  and  actresses  of  the  coun- 
try furnished  wholesome  amusement  to  the  populace. 

Among  the  troubadors,  who  early  favored  the  city 

[246] 


with  their  elevating  and  mirth-producing  melody,  was 
the  "Hutchinson  Family  of  Bell-Ringers,"  a  troupe  that 
half  a  century  ago  was  known  to  the  inhabitants  of 
nearly  every  hamlet  in  the  land.  Here  the  splendid  ca- 
reer of  this  popular  band  of  ballad-singers  was  brought 
to  a  close.  Father  Hutchinson,  obsessed  with  an  ambi- 
tion to  accumulate  a  fortune  quickly,  disbanded  his 
troupe  to  engage  in  mining,  from  the  proceeds  of  which 
he  built  the  "Hutchinson  House,"  a  hostelry  especially 
popular  to  this  day  with  members  of  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession. 

It  was  the  era  of  stock  companies,  and  exceedingly 
strong  combinations  of  talent  were  maintained  at  the 
Tabor,  Wood's  and  other  play  houses  of  the  Cloud  City. 
But  few  road  companies  visited  Colorado  in  that  early 
day,  mainly  because  of  the  sparse  population  and  the 
excessive  railway  rates,  but  such  as  did  invariably 
booked  for  a  Leadville  engagement,  although  the  fare 
from  Denver,  an  eight  hour's  run,  was  eight  dollars. 
Had  the  city  been  dependent  upon  traveling  companies 
for  amusement,  it  would  have  fared  badly  indeed.  The 
patrons  of  the  theater  were  numerous,  quite  out  of  pro- 
portion to  the  population,  and  never  demurred  at  the 
payment  of  a  dollar  and  a  half  or  two  dollars  for  seats 
in  the  parquette.  Leadville  was  never  favored  with 
grand  opera,  although  there  was  always  a  sufficiently 
numerous  clientele  to  have  supported  a  season  of  music, 
whatever  the  cost.  The  legitimate  was  ever  well  sup- 
ported, and  I  do  not  recall  an  instance  when  tragedy 
failed  to  call  out  a  full  house. 

Concert  halls  were  numerous,  and  whereas  some 
pretty  vile  attractions  were  tolerated  from  time  to  time, 
really  meritorius  programs  were  the  vogue. 

But  farces,  comedies  and  lurid  dramas  were  most  in 
demand,  and  commanded  the  largest  box  office  receipts. 

[247] 


CHAPTER  LV. 

A  GIGANTIC  CONSPIRACY  TO  DEPRESS  STOCKS — EIGHT 
THOUSAND  MINERS  STRIKE 

By  midsummer  of  1880  the  rich  surface  deposits  of 
carbonates  of  silver  began  to  give  evidences  of  exhaus- 
tion. The  great  bonanza  mines  of  Fryer  Hill,  that  al- 
ready had  added  nearly  a  hundred  millions  to  the  world's 
stock  of  silver,  reduced  their  daily  output.  The  seem- 
ingly inexhaustible  reserves  of  the  Morning  and  Even- 
ing Star  properties,  on  Carbonate  Hill,  were  being  heav- 
ily drawn  upon.  The  great  Iron-Silver  mine  on  Iron 
Hill  was  tied  up  with  litigation.  Nothing  was  at  that 
time  known  of  a  "second  contact"  or  deposits  of  chloride 
bearing  sulphide  ores,  far  more  enduring,  if  less  rich, 
than  the  overlying  blanket  lode  of  carbonates.  Scientific 
operators  believed  in  the  existence  of  these  hidden  treas- 
ures, but  the  general  public  partook  not  of  their  extreme 
optimism. 

A  coterie  of  designing  operators,  men  who  took 
their  profits  from  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks  on  the  New 
York  Mining  Board,  rather  than  from  practical  oper- 
ation of  the  mining  properties,  entered  into  a  conspiracy 
to  depress  the  stocks  of  the  bonanza  mines,  that  they 
might  gather  in  the  public's  holdings  at  their  own  figures. 

Fire  was  destroying  the  lower  workings  of  the  Chrys- 
olite, believed  to  have  been  in  furtherance  of  the  design 
to  break  down  the  stock,  although,  singular  as  it  may 
seem,  the  shares  continued  to  rise  in  value  with  the 
progress  of  the  flames.  Gloom  began  to  settle  down 
upon  the  city,  and  the  end  was  freely  predicted. 

[248] 


Leadville    Under    Martial    Law.      First    Arrival    of    Stat.e    Troops 
Interior   of   a    Spacious    Leadville    Log   Cabin    of   the   Early    Day 


Chief  among  the  stock  manipulators  was  George 
Daly,  a  daring  and  intrepid  operator  from  the  Comstock, 
and  W.  S.  Keys,  as  well  known  on  the  San  Francisco  Ex- 
change. These  men,  it  was  afterward  alleged  and  gen- 
erally believed,  sent  their  emissaries  into  the  ranks  of 
the  Miner's  Union  to  sow  seeds  of  discord  and  discon- 
tent, inducing  the  leader,  Mike  Mooney,  to  inaugurate 
a  labor  strike. 

All  the  ills  that  could  beset  a  mining  camp  seemed  to 
accumulate  suddenly  and  without  previous  warning. 
The  calamity  came  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue.  Mooney 
and  his  associates  went  from  mine  to  mine,  calling  out 
the  men,  and  within  a  few  days  eight  thousand  oper- 
atives dropped  their  picks  and  shovels  and  joined  the 
idle  throngs  in  the  saloons  and  the  streets. 

The  strike  extended  to  the  smelters,  and  other  thou- 
sands were  added  to  the  tumultuous,  menacing  multi- 
tude. 

Complete  paralysis  of  every  industry  followed. 
Miners  and  smelter  hands  had  been  receiving  the  full 
Union  scale,  frofn  $5  to  $8  a  day,  and  up  to  that  time 
there  had  not  been  a  ripple  on  the  surface  in  organized 
labor  circles.  Had  the  new  demands  been  made  six 
months  prior,  they  doubtless  would  have  been  acceded 
to  without  demur,  but  in  the  face  of  grave  uncertainty 
as  to  the  permanence  of  the  mineral  deposits  that  con- 
fronted the  mine  managers,  they  could  not  with  safety 
and  prudence  be  considered. 

Weeks  of  doubt,  uncertainty  and  fearful  apprehen- 
sion followed  without  untoward  event.  Many  of  the 
mines,  as  soon  as  the  engines  stopped  beating,  began  to 
fill  with  water,  the  pumps  were  drawn,  and  the  hum  of 
activity  throughout  the  district  finally  ceased. 

Mine  owners  refused  to  yield,  and  the  miners  threat- 
ened to  resist  any  attempt  to  import  operators  from 

[249] 


other  mining  camps.  Threats  to  burn  the  city  and  de- 
stroy the  workings  of  the  principal  mines  were  freely 
made.  Even  human  life  was  menaced. 

Singularly  enough,  a  considerable  element  of  the 
population,  that  portion  depending  primarily  upon  the 
miners  for  patronage,  openly  sympathized  with  their 
contention,  calculating  that  they  themselves  might  profit 
from  a  horizontal  increase  in  wages.  Values  took  a 
tumble.  Many  sold  their  valuable  holdings  for  a  song. 
Banks  ceased  renewing  loans,  mercantile  agencies 
warned  their  subscribers  to  discriminate  in  extension  of 
credits.  Merchants  renewed  stocks  with  the  greatest 
caution.  Striking  miners,  as  their  accumulated  funds 
were  exhausted,  became  desperate.  A  species  of  dry 
rot,  more  depressing  than  actual  calamity,  seemed  to 
have  taken  possession  of  the  city. 

Finally  the  leading  mine  managers  held  a  meeting, 
and  issued  an  appeal  to  the  authorities  and  to  the  people. 
"Unless  adequate  protection  is  afforded  us,"  they  de- 
clared, "we  will  close  down  our  mines  and  seek  safety 
elsewhere." 

Such  was  the  situation  when  one  of  my  employees, 
Mr.  W.  L.  Cooper,  advertising  solicitor,  came  excitedly 
into  the  office  and  fairly  shouted :  "Davis,  yau  can  stop 
this  strike  and  save  Leadville!" 

Such  thought  had  not  occurred  to  me.  Like  every 
one  else,  I  felt  powerless.  But  within  an  hour  I  had 
pledged,  in  writing,  the  names  of  one  hundred  prominent 
citizens  who  agreed  to  meet  me  at  Hallock's  Hall,  to  con- 
sider the  situation. 

News  of  the  movement  had  spread,  and  so  many 
joined  it  that  the  hall  would  not  accommodate  the  crowd. 
I  called  the  meeting  to  order,  using  a  six-shooter  for 
gavel  and  the  subtle  hint,  quite  unintended  by  me, 
brought  forth  a  shout  of  approval.  An  adjournment 

[260] 


was  taken  to  the  Opera  House,  the  auditorium  of  which 
was  filled  to  the  doors  with  a  quiet,  though  obviously 
determined,  throng. 

After  discussion,  in  which  vastly  more  was  implied 
than  said,  a  motion  was  carried  that  an  executive  com- 
mittee of  one  hundred  be  named  to  take  charge  of  the 
movement.  The  men  selected  instantly  responded  with 
alacrity  to  the  call  for  a  meeting  to  organize.  This  was 
held  in  Governor  Tabor's  private  rooms  in  the  Opera 
House.  It  was  resolved  it  should  be  called  the  "Com- 
mittee of  Safety." 

Then  followed  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  events 
that  ever  characterized  a  public  movement. 

Col.  A.  V.  Bohn  briefly  addressed  the  members,  re- 
minding them  of  the  extreme  hazard  involved  in  accept- 
ing the  direction  of  such  a  movement,  declaring  that  suc- 
cess could  only  be  hoped  for  by  giving  to  whoever  might 
be  chosen  chairman  of  the  committee  the  broadest  lati- 
tude, and  the  most  loyal,  unyielding,  unquestioning  sup- 
port. At  the  psychological  period  in  his  remarks  he 
asked  that  every  man  raise  his  right  hand  and  swear  to 
do  that  man's  bidding,  whatever  of  sacrifice,  hardship 
or  peril  might  be  involved. 

The  suggestion  was  instantly  acted  upon,  and  the 
faces  of  those  hundred  determined  men  gave  evidence 
of  the  sincerity  of  the  obligation  taken. 

To  my  great,  almost  overwhelming  astonishment, 
I  then  was  unanimously  chosen  chairman,  an  honor 
which  I  should  have  appreciated,  since  there  were  pres- 
ent many  a  grizzled  veteran,  many  who  had  felt  the 
shock  of  battle — many  who,  "amidst  the  war  of  ele- 
ments, the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crash  of  worlds," 
could  be  relied  upon  to  "stand  fast,  stand  firm,  stand 


true." 


The  pledge  taken  was  then  reduced  to  writing  and 


signed  by  all  present.  I  append  the  rules  and  regula- 
tions adopted,  together  with  the  roll  of  members — from 
the  only  draft  in  existence : 

"Whereas,  It  is  believed  that  there  is  an  organization 
existing  in  our  midst  whose  objects  are  detrimental  to 
the  best  interests  of  Leadville  and  the  surrounding  indus- 
tries ;  and 

"Whereas,  This  lawless  organization  has  assumed 
such  vast  proportions  that  the  civil  and  military  author- 
ities cannot  adequately  control  it  or  sufficiently  punish 
the  offenders;  and 

"Whereas,,  It  is  the  duty  of  every  citizen  who  has  in 
view  the  prosperity  of  Leadville,  Lake  County  and  the 
entire  State  of  Colorado  to  band  together  for  the  pro- 
tection of  these  interests ;  therefore,  be  it 

"Resolved,  That  we,  the  undersigned  citizens  of 
Leadville  and  Lake  County  organize  ourselves  into  a 
Committee  of  Safety,  whose  objects  shall  be  maintenance 
of  order,  the  punishment  of  crime,  and  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  all  lawless  acts  that  may  transpire  within  our 
midst  and  come  within  the  objects  of  this  organization. 

"OFFICERS. 

"The  offices  of  this  organization  shall  consist  of  a 
President,  Secretary,  and  a  Council,  consisting  of  five 
members.  The  President  and  Secretary  shall  be  ex- 
officio  members  of  the  Council.  And  in  addition  to  the 
above  officers,  there  shall  be  appointed  by  the  Council 
such  number  of  Executive  Committeemen  as  may  be 
deemed  necessary. 

"DUTIES  OF  OFFICERS. 

"The  President  shall  be  Commander-in-Chief,  and 
have  command  of  all  meetings  of  the  organization, 
whether  public  or  private,  and  shall  be  taken  into  the 
counsel  of  any  Executive  Committeeman  and  his  posse, 
before  executing  any  order,  and  shall  preside  at  all  meet- 
ings of  the  Council.  The  Secretary  shall  record  and 
safely  keep  all  records  ordered  by  the  council.  The  du- 

[252] 


ties  of  the  Council  shall  be  to  hear  all  cases  and  render 
final  judgment  thereon,  and  fill  any  and  all  vacancies 
that  may  occur.  It  shall  be  the  duty  of  the  Executive 
Committee,  separately  or  collectively,  TO  OBEY 
WITHOUT  QUESTION  ALL  ORDERS  THAT 
MAY  BE  ISSUED  BY  THE  PRESIDENT.  It  shall 
be  the  duty  of  the  members  of  this  organization  to  at  all 
times  and  WITHOUT  QUESTION  obey  the  orders  of 
the  Executive  Committee  and  the  President.  And  we, 
the  members  of  this  organization,  hereby  solemnly 
pledge  ourselves,  our  property  and  our  sacred  honor  to 
carry  out  the  spirit  and  intent  of  the  above  rules :" 


[253] 


[254] 


Thirty-six  years  have  passed  since  the  tragic  inci- 
dents noted  in  this  chapter  occurred.  Doubtless  the  ma- 
jority of  those  who  signed  the  extraordinary  pact  set 
out  above  have  "gone  over  the  range."  Who  were  these 
men?  Doubtless  a  brief  summary  will  not  be  without 
interest  even  at  this  day.  I  shall  indicate  with  an  asterisk 
(*)  such  as  are  known  to  me  to  be  dead:  Tabor*  was 
Lieutenant  Governor;  Wright  was  Attorney-General; 

John  Bonner*  (first  editor  of  Harper's  Weekly)  was 
Mining  Editor  of  the  Evening  Chronicle;  A.  A.  Smith* 
was  Postmaster;  Henry  Rowland*  was  an  artist;  Mc- 
Dowell, attorney;  S.  J.  Hanna,  Register  U.  S.  Land 
Office;  W.  S.  Keys,  prominent  mining  operator;  J.  H. 
Playter,  County  Treasurer,  C.  C.  Howell,*  President 
City  Bank;  Geo.  B.  Robinson,*  Lieutenant-Governor- 
elect;  A.  G.  Hood,  Manager  Telephone  Exchange;  Chas. 
Mater,*  owner  seven  stores;  Geo.  R.  Fisher,  Cashier 
Bank  of  Leadville;  Peter  Becker,*  Sheriff;  E.  C.  Kav- 
anaugh,*  Alderman;  Geo.  Daly,*  mining  operator;  A.  S. 
Weston,*  Judge ;  Lou  C.  Leonard,*  private  secretary  to 
Senator  Tabor;  Geo.  W.  Trimble,  Vice-President  Car- 
bonate National  Bank;  Geo.  T.  Clark,*  mining  operator; 
R.  Gauss,*  A.  J.  White,*  and  M.  H.  Slater*  were  editors 
of  the  Chronicle.  Of  those  who,  at  this  writing,  are  be- 
lieved to  be  living,  Charles  Boettcher  is  a  multi-million- 
aire banker  and  sugar  manufacturer;  I.  W.  Chatfield  is 
a  rancher  in  Idaho;  J.  D.  McCarthy  is  a  mining  operator 
at  Los  Angeles;  S.  J.  Hanna  is  National  Lecturer  for 
Christian  Scientists,  Boston;  W.  S.  Keyes  is  a  prominent 
San  Francisco  mining  operator. 

Little  wonder  is  it  that  this  Association  should  have 
been  dubbed  "the  Stranglers"  by  the  turbulent  element, 
since,  among  other  objects  declared  was  "the  punish- 
ment of  crime,"  a  literal  interpretation  of  which  would 

[255] 


leave  little  for  the  courts  to  do.  The  "Rules  and  Regu- 
lations" were  not  published  at  the  time,  for  obvious 
reasons,  but  it  was  well  understood  that  the  Association 
was  patterned  after  the  famous  San  Francisco  "Vigi- 
lance Committee,"  that  so  effectually  crushed  out  crime 
and  disorder  in  the  Bay  City  in  the  late  50's.  It  will  be 
noted  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  Secretary  to  "keep  a 
record"  of  doings,  a  duty  that  of  course  never  was  per- 
formed, the  only  written  record  being  that  from  which 
I  have  here  quoted.  The  powers  conferred  upon  the 
"Commander-in-Chief,"  as  has  been  seen,  were  very 
broad,  and  were  tantamount  to  making  him  a  Dictator. 
But  at  this  late  day,  as  my  earthly  career  draws  to  a 
close,  I  have  substantial  comfort  in  the  reflection  that 
the  "Committee  of  Safety,"  in  the  pursuit  of  its  chief 
aim,  the  extension  of  protection  to  life  and  property,  and 
the  ridding  of  the  community  of  its  turbulent  element, 
was  never  called  upon  to  do  more  than  conduct  the  lead- 
ers to  the  borders  of  the  city  and  bid  them  never  to  re- 
turn. The  "spirit"  of  the  organization,  which  the  mem- 
bers pledged  themselves  to  keep  in  mind,  was  well  under- 
stood by  the  lawless  element,  and  resort  to  violence  did 
not  become  necessary. 

My  first  act  was  to  employ  a  number  of  Pinkerton  de- 
tectives, to  watch  the  movements  of  the  strikers,  and  I 
was  thus  daily  kept  advised  of  every  development. 

I  then  wrote  a  lengthy  communication  to  Governor 
Frederick  W.  Pitkin,  reciting  in  detail  every  event  lead- 
ing up  to  the  organization  of  the  Committee  of  Safety, 
advising  him  that  the  civil  authorities — the  Sheriff, 
Mayor  and  Chief  of  Police — were  believed  to  be  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  strikers;  at  all  events  they  were  not 
trusted,  and  could  not  be  depended  upon  to  protect  life 
and  property.  I  anticipated  that  it  might  become  neces- 
sary to  declare  martial  law  and  call  upon  the  State  for 

[286] 


JOHN    EWING 

Prominent   Member  Denver 

and    Leadville    Bar 

HON.    JASPER    D.    WARD 

Early  Day  District  Judge 

of    Leadville 


HON.    CHARLES    CAVENDER 

Judge  of  Fifth  Colorado 

District 

HON.    L.    M.   GODDARD. 

Ex-Judge    of   the    Fifth 

Colorado     District 


military  aid,  and  I  desired  that  the  Governor  should  be 
fully  advised  before  the  contingency  should  arise. 

Replying,  he  implored  me  to  exhaust  every  resource 
before  calling  upon  him. 

The  Committee  thereupon  got  busy,  and,  within  a 
very  short  time,  seven  companies  of  one  hundred  men 
each  were  organized,  and  a  secret  agent  sent  to  the  cap- 
ital for  arms.  These  were  brought  in  over  Mosquito 
Pass  during  the  night,  but  not  until  their  receipt  did  I 
feel  that  the  city  was  safe. 

The  members  of  the  local  fire  department,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  strong,  volunteered  to  do  guard  duty  at 
night. 

One  of  the  local  militia  companies  was  mounted,  and 
kept  deployed  in  the  hills,  on  the  alert  for  any  hostile 
demonstration  against  mining  or  smelting  property. 

Before  these  preparations  were  fairly  complete,  in- 
formation reached  me  that  the  Union  had  decided  to  pa- 
rade the  streets,  in  order  to  show  the  superior  strength 
of  the  strikers,  and  perhaps  thus  overawe  the  law-and- 
order  element. 

The  determination  of  the  Committee  of  Safety  to 
make  a  counter  demonstration  the  same  day  was  perhaps 
not  the  wisest  course  to  pursue,  since  avoidance  of  a 
clash  might  become  impossible,  but  the  plan  was  carried 
out,  and  a  day  of  most  menacing  portent  was  ushered  in. 

By  noon  Harrison  avenue,  for  a  distance  of  eight 
blocks,  was  filled  with  a  dense  mass  of  humanity — eight 
thousand  striking  miners,  and  an  equal  number  of  citi- 
zens, arrayed  on  the  side  of  law  and  order,  marched 
back  and  forth,  counter-marched,  swayed  and  surged 
from  curb  to  curb,  each  side  presenting  a  bold,  deter- 
mined front,  each  ready  to  respond  to  a  signal  to  fly  at 
one  another's  throats.  Only  in  the  set  features  of  the 

adherents  of  either  cause  was  their  dogged  determina- 
te?] 


tion  shown.  It  was  not  a  noisy  or  demonstrative  crowd, 
albeit  the  awful  silence  that  prevailed  showed  the  fearful 
tension  that  existed. 

I  waited  a  favorable  opportunity,  and  when  the  psy- 
chological moment  seemed  to  have  arrived,  when  there 
was  an  apparent  halt  in  the  maching  columns,  I  stepped 
out  on  the  balcony  of  the  Tabor  Opera  House,  accom- 
panied by  Governor  Tabor  and  a  number  of  others,  and, 
shouting  for  attention,  I  began  the  reading  of  a  "procla- 
mation" to  the  strikers.  It  was  short,  but  explicit,  and 
the  dullest  mind  could  not  have  failed  to  grasp  its  full 
import.  It  recited  in  brief  the  events  leading  up  to  the 
calling  out  of  the  men,  told  of  the  fixed  determination  of 
the  mine  owners  not  to  yield,  and  of  their  threat  to  close 
the  mines  permanently  unless  the  men  would  go  back 
to  work,  or  the  citizens  would  protect  them  in  bringing 
in  others  to  take  their  places.  And  it  closed  with  the 
announcement  that,  unless  the  strike  should  be  called  off 
at  once,  the  protection  asked  for  would  be  extended,  to 
the  extent  of  the  ability  and  the  resource  of  every  mem- 
ber of  the  law-and-order  party. 

I  did  not  expect  to  leave  that  balcony  alive.  I  had  a 
feeling  akin  to  disappointment  that  the  reading  of  the 
proclamation  was  not  interrupted  with  a  rifle  ball,  and 
perhaps  it  might  have  been  but  for  an  unlooked-for  di- 
version, half  a  block  distant.  Col.  A.  V.  Bohn,  a  coura- 
geous veteran,  but  perhaps  deficient  in  judgment,  was 
attempting  to  urge  the  horse  upon  which  he  was  mounted 
through  the  crowd,  and  with  his  drawn  sword  to  force 
the  mob  to  open  a  passage  way. 

At  this  juncture  some  one  fired  a  shot,  and  a  police- 
man pulled  Col.  Bohn  from  his  mount  and  rushed  him 
off  to  jail. 

The  firing  was  supposed  to  be  a  signal,  and  might 
have  been,  although  not  followed  by  hostile  act. 

[258] 


Within  a  short  time  the  opposing  forces  withdrew 
from  the  street,  each  apparently  satisfied  with  the  exhi- 
bition of  strength  that  had  been  made. 

The  tension,  which  had  been  terrible  for  three  hours, 
was  relaxed,  and  all  felt  that  a  frightful  encounter,  at- 
tended by  great  loss  of  life,  had  been  averted  by  a  mir- 
acle. It  was  obvious  that  the  miners  had  not  been  awed 
by  the  show  of  resistance,  and  that  they  were  more 
firmly  resolved  than  before  to  stand  their  ground. 

The  first  few  attempts  to  bring  in  strike-breakers 
were  unsuccessful.  Representatives  of  the  Union  seemed 
to  be  advised  of  every  movement  of  the  mine  managers. 
They  would  board  trains  a  few  miles  out  of  the  city, 
ascertain  if  any  miners  were  among  the  passengers, 
plead  with  or  threaten  them  when  found,  and  add  them 
to  their  own  ranks  on  arrival. 

This  unsatisfactory  condition  was  tolerated  for  some 
time,  and  until  the  patience  of  the  citizens  became  ex- 
hausted. Then,  no  relief  to  be  looked  for  elsewhere,  our 
Committee  made  a  formal  appeal  to  the  Governor,  sup- 
ported with  the  name  of  every  influential  man  in  the  city 
sympathizing  with  it. 

Governor  Pitkin,  finally,  was  persuaded  that  it  was 
necessary  to  declare  martial  law,  and  issued  his  procla- 
mation declaring  Leadville  in  a  state  of  siege. 

Five  companies  of  State  Militia,  and  a  battery  of  ar- 
tillery, were  sent  up  from  the  valley  and  went  into  winter 
quarters  in  a  near-by  park. 

This  vigorous  action  on  the  part  of  the  Chief  Execu- 
tive broke  the  spirit  of  the  strikers,  and  gradually  they 
returned  to  work.  Mine  after  mine  resumed  operations, 
those  that  had  been  flooded  were  unwatered,  and  the  hum 
of  machinery  was  again  heard  all  over  the  district. 

Mutterings  of  discontent  still  were  heard,  however; 
and  my  detectives  reported  that  the  walking  delegates 

[2S9] 


were  considering  a  renewal  of  the  strike,  once  the  militia 
was  withdrawn,  and  this  information,  communicated  to 
the  Governor  about  the  time  he  was  prepared  to  with- 
draw the  troops,  induced  him  to  delay  action  for  another 
month,  and  until  all  were  satisfied  that  normal  conditions 
had  been  fully  restored. 

I  was  a  target  for  the  strikers  all  through  the  trying 
period,  and  it  is  little  less  than  miraculous  that  I  was 
not  assassinated.  Threats  against  me  were  so  commonly 
indulged  in  that  the  Provost  Marshal,  during  the  reign 
of  martial  law,  Gen'l  William  H.  James,  kept  a  detail  of 
soldiers  constantly  guarding  my  home  and  office. 

The  strikers  issued  a  little  paper  periodically  during 
the  trouble,  and  this,  in  editorial  and  cartoon,  was  de- 
voted largely  to  excoriating  and  charicaturing  me. 

On  the  day  of  the  parade  Mike  Mooney,  leader  of 
the  strikers,  mounted  a  wagon,  left  in  the  street  in  front 
of  my  office,  and  harangued  the  multitude  gathered 
about  him,  and  it  was  for  a  time  feared  he  might  incite 
his  fellows  to  make  an  attack  upon  the  printing  plant, 
but  the  danger  was  by  some  means  averted,  possibly  the 
knowledge  that  back  of  the  partition,  separating  count- 
ing room  from  mechanical  department,  were  eighteen 
loaded  rifles,  and  eighteen  persons  near-by  handy  in  the 
use  of  them. 

More  than  thirty  years  after  the  stirring  events  re- 
lated in  this  chapter,  Mike  Mooney  paid  me  a  friendly 
call!  He  was  accompanied  by  the  late  Col.  Henry  M. 
Sale,  an  ex-Confederate  hero,  who  ever  delighted  in  tell- 
ing how  he  "chased  me,"  down  in  Mississippi,  in  '64,  al- 
ways claiming  that  he  was  the  identical  rebel  who  shot 
that  ugly  hole  through  my  brother's  face  at  the  battle  of 
Tupelo. 

Time,  healer  of  all  our  ills,  had  blotted  out  the  mem- 
ory of  wearisome  marches,  of  perilous  raids,  and  f  ear- 

[260] 


some  nights  on  menacing  picket  duty  in  Tennessee  and 
Mississippi  marshes,  alert  to  crackling  twig  or  chirp  of 
bird,  waking  hours  full  charged  with  dread  of  dashing 
foe,  and  dreams  disturbed  by  fancy's  visions  of  wretched 
existence  in  dank  rebel  prisons.  I  gave  cordial  greeting 
to  Col.  Sale. 

Recollections  of  the  bitterness  engendered  during 
the  reign  of  terror  in  Leadville  had  wholly  disappeared, 
and  I  also  grasped  the  hand  of  Mike  Mooney  with  uncon- 
cealed pleasure. 

"The  hand  and  heart  will  show  the  noble  mind 
A  fellow  feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind." 

I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  give  Colonel  Sale  a  retainer 
in  a  pending  suit,  and  to  endorse  Mooney  for  a  vacant 
janitorship  of  a  public  school  building! 

After  the  strike  had  ended  George  Daly  changed  his 
base  to  New  Mexico,  and  shortly  thereafter  met  a  tragic 
death  at  the  hands  of  the  Apaches.  His  mining  partner, 
W.  S.  Keyes,  returned  to  the  Comstock,  operating  in  the 
shares  of  bonanza  mines.  Public  feeling  against  these 
two  men  had  become  so  wrought  up  that  continued  resi- 
dence in  Leadville  could  not  be  considered  with  pleasur- 
able anticipation. 


[261] 


CHAPTER  LVL 

NUMEROUS  INCIDENTS  OF  THRILLING  AND  TRAGIC 
INTEREST  IN  BANKING  HISTORY 

The  banking  history  of  Leadville  was  not  lacking  in 
tragic  incident,  in  humorous  aspect  or  ludicrous  phase. 
The  first  chartered  institution  was  the  Bank  of  Lead- 
ville, H.  A.  W.  Tabor,  President,  George  R.  Fisher, 
Cashier.  I  have  mentioned  how  this  pioneer  bank  was 
opened  as  an  adjunct  to  Tabor's  grocery,  with  a  single 
small  iron  safe  and  scales  for  weighing  miners'  dust.  A 
few  months  later  it  was  suitably  housed  in  Leadville's 
first  brick  building,  a  two-story  structure  well  adapted 
to  the  enormous  business  it  soon  was  called  upon  to, 
handle. 

It  was  quickly  followed  by  the  First  National  Bank, 
occupying  an  imposing  stone  building  across  the  street 
from  Tabor's  Bank. 

Then  succeeded  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics  Bank, 
the  City  National,  the  Carbonate  National  and  Breene's 
Bank — three  National  and  three  operating  under  State 
laws. 

In  the  spring  of  1883  the  Bank  of  Leadville  closed 
its  doors,  in  the  face  of  an  angry  crowd  of  depositors, 
dragging  down  with  it,  a  short  time  thereafter,  the  First 
National  and  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics.  The  com- 
bined shortage  of  the  three  exceeded  a  million  dollars. 

Although  Mr.  Tabor  was  at  the  time  reported  to  be 
worth  six  to  seven  million  dollars,  my  recollection  is  that 
depositors  never  received  a  cent,  while  stockholders  lost 
their  entire  investment.  The  failure  was  due  to  the 
good  nature,  large  heart  and  lax  methods  of  Geo.  R. 

[262] 


Fisher,  its  Cashier,  who  loaned  the  bank's  funds  to  all 
sorts  of  questionable  enterprises.  Although  he  refused 
me  a  small  line  of  credit  when  I  was  doing  an  obviously 
prosperous  business,  he  advanced  large  sums  upon  mine 
reserves  that  had  no  existence,  upon  theatrical  incomes 
not  yet  earned,  and  stocks  not  worth  the  paper  upon 
which  they  were  printed. 

The  President  of  the  First  National,  Frank  W.  De- 
Walt,  brought  ruin  upon  an  institution  earning  40  per 
cent,  upon  its  capitalization,  by  living  a  dual  domestic 
life,  by  indulgence  in  expensive  luxuries,  and  in  spas- 
modic attempts  to  break  the  banks  of  the  leading  gamb- 
ling houses. 

The  collapse  of  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics  Bank 
was  directly  due  to  the  withdrawal  of  a  large  portion  of 
its  assets  by  its  President,  L.  M.  Smith,  with  which  to 
purchase  "gold  bricks!" 

The  banking  history  of  the  country  presents  no  more 
interesting  or  thrilling  episodes. 

I  had  a  telegraphic  tip  from  my  Chicago  correspond- 
ent that  the  First  National  was  in  some  sort  of  trouble. 
I  went  directly  to  the  President  for  denial  or  confirma- 
tion of  the  rumor.  At  first  he  denied  the  existence  of 
any  trouble,  but  later  admitted  the  mysterious  disappear- 
ance of  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  gold,  and  the  subse- 
quent discovery  of  the  funds  between  the  leaves  of  a 
book !  His  story  lacked  consistency,  since  gold  had  been 
lost  and  currency  found. 

The  discrepancy  was  all  sufficient  to  convince  me 
that  the  true  facts  were  being  concealed.  Among  the 
heaviest  stockholders  was  Charles  Mater,  a  close  friend, 
who  lately  had  become  one  of  my  bondsmen  as  Post- 
master. To  him  I  related  what  I  had  discovered.  I 
urged  him,  without  awaiting  further  developments,  to 
withdraw  his  deposit,  and  dispose  of  his  stock  holdings. 

[263] 


I  was  so  well  assured  that  the  bank  was  tottering,  and 
so  eager  to  rescue  my  friend,  that  I  told  him  if  he  would 
act  upon  my  advice,  and  come  to  me  within  thirty  days 
with  a  statement  of  loss,  by  reason  of  it,  I  would  make  it 
good ! 

Instead,  however,  he  rushed  frantically  over  to  the 
bank  and  confronted  the  officers  with  what  I  had  dis- 
closed. Poor,  deluded,  ignorant,  confiding  Dutchman 
that  he  was,  he  advanced  the  bank  an  additional  ten 
thousand  dollars,  to  tide  it  over  what  was  adroitly 
shown  him  to  be  a  temporary  embarrassment,  leaving  his 
large  balance  undisturbed,  and  making  no  effort  to  dis- 
pose of  his  stock.  His  subsequent  loss  by  the  bank's 
failure,  occurring  a  week  later,  completely  ruined  him, 
the  owner  of  seven  prosperous  grocery  stores. 

I  had  left  instructions  at  the  office  that  at  the  first 
whisper  of  trouble  at  the  First  National  I  was  to  be  sum- 
moned, regardless  of  the  hour.  The  summons  came  at 
midnight,  while  enjoying  a  dance  in  the  City  Hall. 
Without  delaying  to  change  my  full  dress  suit,  I  jumped 
into  a  cab  and  was  quickly  whirled  to  the  banking  house. 
It  was  ablaze  with  light,  and  the  Board  of  Directors  was 
holding  an  excited  session.  Gaining  admission,  after 
some  parleying,  I  found  the  counters  and  desks  loaded 
with  books  and  papers  in  the  greatest  confusion,  and  the 
officials  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion. 

Taking  advantage  of  their  absorption,  I  selected  the 
daily  balance  book  and  began  copying  from  it  a  state- 
ment from  the  totals,  which  I  assumed  would  truthfully 
disclose  the  exact  assets  at  the  close  of  the  day's  business, 
but  before  finishing  the  task  the  President  whipped  out  a 
revolver,  approached  me  with  the  weapon  in  his  hand, 
grasped  the  book  and  threw  it  into  the  vault. 

Mater,  a  startled  spectator  of  the  exciting  scene,  him- 
self wrought  up  to  the  frenzied  point,  was  seen  to  rush 

[264] 


;<  rj  a; 

— 


&,  -§«g 

0  *  T  £ 
x  -:  2 


o  o 


el 


hatless  from  the  room,  an  ominous  look  of  determination 
on  his  stern  features. 

Quickly  divining  his  purpose,  I  followed  him  to  his 
store,  half  a  block  distant,  and  found  him  emerging  with 
two  murderous  pistols  in  his  hands.  He  was  bent  upon 
returning  to  the  bank  and  avenging  himself  upon  its 
President,  the  cause  of  his  ruin.  I  succeeded,  after  much 
effort,  in  quieting  him,  in  saving  the  life  of  his  intended 
victim,  and  rescuing  an  honored  name  from  tragic  fame. 

Twenty-five  years  after  the  stirring  incidents  here 
related  I  learned,  with  sorrow,  that  Charles  Mater, 
frame  bent  with  age,  and  hair  silvered  by  grief,  was 
working  out  his  salvation  in  an  Arizona  mine  at  $3  a  day, 
and  later  still  that  his  mind  had  completely  given  way, 
all  of  his  woes  dating  from  the  bank  incident. 

Frank  W.  DeWalt  was  convicted  of  violation  of  the 
national  banking  act,  and  sentenced  to  a  long  term  in  a 
federal  prison  at  Cheyenne.  Every  subsequent  move- 
ment on  the  part  of  his  friends  to  secure  a  pardon  for 
the  graceless  rascal  was  vigorously  opposed  by  my  news- 
papers, and  he  served  out  his  full  term. 

The  assets  of  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics  Bank, 
like  those  of  its  defunct  predecessors,  were  largely  com- 
posed of  worthless  paper — in  banking  parlance  "cats  and 
dogs" — but  its  collapse  was  precipitated  by  an  act  of  its 
President,  almost  too  absurd  to  be  recorded.  He  had 
received  by  mail  an  anonymous  communication,  stating 
that  the  writer  had  come  into  possession  of  a  number  of 
bars  of  gold  bullion,  upon  which  was  stamped  the  name 
of  the  smelter  producing  it.  The  bank,  it  was  suggested, 
could  in  some  way  make  use  of  it  without  arousing  sus- 
picion, and  it  was  offered  at  fifty  cents  on  the  dollar. 
Its  value,  by  weight,  was  $150,000,  and  Smith  calculated 
he  could  not  earn  $75,000  more  easily  than  by  remelting 
the  stuff  and  working  it  off  gradually  in  small  lots. 

[265] 


The  bars  were  buried  in  a  lonely  spot  on  the  mountain 
side,  and  it  was  arranged  that  Smith  was  to  drive  the 
vendor  to  the  locality  on  a  given  night,  recover  the  booty, 
bring  it  to  the  bank  to  be  weighed,  and  close  the  trans- 
action by  payment  of  the  purchase  price.  Smith  fell  an 
easy  victim  of  the  crude  plot,  and  handed  $75,000  of 
depositors'  money  over  to  the  clever  operator.  Several 
of  the  bars,  adroitly  manipulated,  were  tested  by  Smith, 
and  found  to  be  of  correct  weight  and  fineness,  but  sub- 
sequently the  fact  was  disclosed  that  the  whole  lot  did 
not  contain  a  hundred  dollars  in  auriferous  value. 

The  circumstance  was  known  only  to  the  operator 
and  his  fool  victim,  and  might  never  have  been  made 
public  had  not  the  latter,  in  a  vain  hope  of  recovering 
some  of  his  money,  had  the  fellow  arrested.  All  of  the 
facts  came  out  at  the  hearing,  the  outcome  of  which  was 
quite  as  damaging  to  accuser  as  accused.  Smith  was 
shown  to  be  willing  to  become  a  fence  for  stolen  goods, 
and  to  unlawfully  appropriate  the  money  of  his  trusting 
depositors  for  use  in  the  villainous  deal. 

Never  after  the  developments  of  that  trial  was  L.  M. 
Smith  able  to  hold  up  his  head  in  the  community,  and  the 
well-earned  disgrace  and  humiliation  doubtless  short- 
ened his  life  and  sent  him  to  an  untimely  and  dishonored 
grave. 

The  depositors  in  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics 
Bank  never  received  a  dollar,  its  assets  barely  covering 
the  expense  of  liquidation. 

A  conspicuous  figure  in  the  early  days  of  Leadville 
was  C.  C.  Howell,  a  person  of  most  marvelous  capacity, 
energy  and  effectiveness,  supplemented  with  a  most  in- 
gratiating address.  He  was  a  rustler  by  instinct  and  a 
plunger  by  profession.  There  was  scarcely  a  public 
enterprise  in  which  he  did  not  figure,  a  community  un- 
dertaking in  which  he  was  not  a  prominent  factor.  His 

[266] 


purse  string  was  always  loose,  and  no  appeal  for  his 
personal  service  was  ever  made  in  vain. 

Throughout  the  reign  of  terror  following  the  labor 
strike,  when  property  was  not  considered  worth  ten 
cents  on  the  dollar,  Howell  pushed  the  work  of  construc- 
tion upon  two  large  business  blocks,  the  "Howell"  and 
the  "Boston,"  and  by  his  exhibition  of  optimism  inspir- 
ing confidence  among  the  more  timid.  He  was  an  excep- 
tionally active  and  forceful  member  of  the  Committee  of 
Safety,  and  when  funds  were  needed  to  provide  the  vol- 
unteer firemen  with  a  midnight  lunch — the  only  con- 
dition of  their  employment  as  guards — Howell  told  me 
not  to  bother  about  taking  up  a  collection — "just  send  the 
bill  to  me." 

This,  and  numberless  other  evidences  of  public  spirit 
and  generosity,  commended  him  to  me  as  a  factor  to  be 
reckoned  with,  a  citizen  to  be  encouraged  and  supported. 

A  single  incident  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  really 
phenomenal  energy  and  dogged  determination  of  this 
man.  Directed  aright,  these  qualities  would  have  made 
the  Governorship  or  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate 
easily  obtainable.  The  strike  episode  had  shown  the 
weakness  of  the  State  Militia  establishment.  It  needed 
uniforms  and  better  armament.  It  was  thought  if  How- 
ell were  placed  at  its  head,  he  would  speedily  perfect  the 
organization  at  his  own  expense,  if  funds  were  not 
otherwise  forthcoming.  I  appealed  to  Gov.  Pitkin  to 
appoint  him  General,  giving  him  wide  latitude,  and  I 
enlisted  every  influence  in  the  State  in  that  behalf. 

Howell  knew  so  little  of  military  matters  that  he  in- 
nocently inquired,  after  receipt  of  commission,  which 
were  the  higher  rank,  a  Brigadier  or  a  Major  General ! 

The  Governor  considered,  faltered  and  finally  de- 
cided he  could  not  go  over  the  heads  of  hundreds  of  old 

[267] 


soldiers,  fully  equipped  for  the  position,  and  appoint 
a  civilian  like  Howell. 

Because  of  my  supposed  influence  with  the  Execu- 
tive, I  was  Howell's  main  reliance,  and  it  was  thought  if 
I  failed,  further  efforts  would  be  fruitless. 

Gov.  Pitkin  finally  told  me  I  might  as  well  return  to 
Leadville — that  I  was  wasting  my  time  and  energy,  since 
his  determination  not  to  appoint  Howell  was  "official, 
final  and  irrevocable." 

When  this  information  was  communicated  to  How- 
ell, he  declared :  "Now  is  the  time  for  work!"  and,  meet- 
ing me  at  the  railway  station,  a  few  hours  later,  he 
proudly  displayed  his  commission  as  a  Major  General  of 
Militia! 

After  order  had  been  restored  and  the  troops  with- 
drawn, Howell  came  to  me  with  a  proposal  to  take  an 
interest  in  his  City  Bank.  It  was  working  under  a  State 
charter,  and  doing  a  handsome  business  in  a  small  way. 
Howell  desired  to  nationalize  it,  increase  its  capital,  and 
take  the  place  made  for  it  by  the  failure  of  the  three 
banks  previously  mentioned.  He  represented  that  he 
had  so  many  irons  in  the  fire  he  could  not  give  it  the 
attention  required;  he  desired  to  interest  four  or  five 
local  persons  in  it,  enough  to  constitute  a  Board  of  Di- 
rectors and  give  to  the  institution  a  strong  home  stand- 
ing. It  was  immaterial  how  much  or  how  little  stock 
they  subscribed  for,  since  it  was  his  purpose  to  place 
most  of  it  with  former  friends  in  Chicago,  and  with 
friends  at  Circleville,  Ohio,  his  former  home.  He  had 
engaged  the  services  as  Cashier  of  Thomas  B.  Hill,  a 
person  who,  by  reason  of  having  for  many  years  repre- 
sented Dun's  Commercial  Agency  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain States,  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  business  men,  and 
would  be  able  to  control  the  bulk  of  Denver  collections, 
a  highly  profitable  line  of  business. 

[268] 


Howell  drew  a  very  alluring  picture  of  the  Bank's 
future,  and  although  I  protested  that  I  knew  little  of 
banking,  and  could  give  but  slight  attention  to  its  busi- 
ness, he  refused  to  take  no  for  an  answer,  and  I  fell — 
victim  to  the  machinations  of  as  graceless  a  scoundrel 
as  ever  wore  the  mask  of  guileless  candor,  truth  and 
integrity. 

For  the  benefit  of  the  younger  reader,  upon  the 
threshold  of  a  business  career,  I  propose  to  extend  this 
branch  of  my  story  beyond  ordinary  limits,  that  the 
moral  may  not  be  lost  sight  of. 

Soon  after  the  interview  above  noted  Howell  asked 
me,  incidentally,  in  the  course  of  a  desultory  conversa- 
tion, how  I  was  rated  by  the  commercial  agencies.  I  re- 
plied that  I  had  never  been  curious  enough  to  examine 
their  reports ;  that  it  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me, 
since  I  discounted  all  my  bills  and  required  no  credit  or 
credit  rating.  A  few  days  later  he  advised  me  that  he 
had  looked  up  the  matter;  that  he  had  found  my  rating 
was  ridiculously  low,  and  suggested  that,  knowing  well 
the  representatives  of  the  two  agencies,  he  would  see 
that  I  got  what  I  was  entitled  to  in  the  next  annual 
reports. 

True  to  promise,  my  worth  was  doubled,  my  credit 
correspondingly  elevated. 

Strange,  isn't  it,  dear  reader,  that  I  should  not  until 
years  afterwards,  have  divined  Howeirs  extreme  solici- 
tude for  my  credit — that  I  should  not  have  connected  it 
with  a  later  request,  and  not  so  much  later  either — that 
I  endorse  two  notes  for  him,  each  for  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars. Those  notes  were  paid.  I  never  heard  of  them 
afterwards.  Howell  was  not  quite  ready  to  betray  my 
confidence.  But,  months  in  advance  of  his  requirements, 
he  had  built  up  a  substantial  reputation,  ostensibly  for 
me,  but  in  fact  for  his  own  future  use ! 

[269] 


Four  other  egregious  asses  fell  victims  to  Howell's 
blandishments.  Five  local  Directors  were  found;  the 
bank  was  nationalized;  Hill  was  installed  as  Cashier; 
Ho  well,  with  stock  book  in  suit  case,  was  off  for  the 
East;  business  picked  up  at  once;  Denver  collections  paid 
all  overhead  expenses;  deposits  increased.  The  City 
National  was  on  the  ocean  highway,  all  sails  set.  But  it 
was  a  painted  ocean,  and  a  painted  ship. 

A  fortnight  after  Ho  well's  departure,  our  Bank  re- 
ceived from  him  Chicago  exchange  for  $30,000. 

Assuming  that  the  sum  was  the  proceeds  of  sales  of 
shares  to  Chicago  parties,  and  that  their  names  would 
follow  later,  it  was  carried  to  stock  account,  and  the  Di- 
rectors marked  time! 

Thirty  days  later  notice  was  received  from  the  Sec- 
ond National  Bank  of  Chicago  that  the  note  of  the  City 
National  Bank  of  Leadville,  in  the  sum  of  $30,000, 
signed  by  President  Howell,  was  about  to  mature,  and 
should  be  honored ! 

The  Cashier  of  the  Chicago  concern  was  a  brother- 
in-law  of  Howell.  Our  President  had  sold  no  stock  in 
Chicago,  but  as  President  of  our  bank,  had  borrowed 
$30,000  and  forwarded  the  funds,  with  copies  of  notes 
held  by  our  bank  as  collateral.  And  the  note  for  $30,000 
bore  the  pawnbroker's  rate  of  2  per  cent,  a  month ! 

Howell  had  double-crossed  us,  and  worked  off  fic- 
titious notes  upon  a  confiding  relative. 

His  motive  was  disclosed  by  a  hasty  experting  of  the 
books  of  the  Leadville  bank,  disclosing  the  fact  that 
when  turned  over  to  us  it  was  insolvent,  and  liable 
to  be  closed  before  he  could  play  out  his  hand. 

From  Chicago  Howell  had  jumped  to  Circleville,  his 
native  town,  where  he  sold  the  remainder  of  the  capital 
stock  of  the  City  National  Bank  of  Leadville  to  a  little 
coterie  of  whilom  friends  owning  the  First  National 

[270] 


Bank  of  that  place,  and  with  the  entire  proceeds  had 
sailed  for  England!  We  were  obliged  to  pay  the  Chi- 
cago claim,  but  the  Bank's  cash,  after  paying  it,  was 
$83,000  short  of  the  legitimate  claims  of  local  depositors, 
other  than  those  of  the  Directors. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow,  and  following  so  closely  upon 
the  heels  of  the  other  three  disgraceful  bank  failures, 
imposed  a  double  obligation  upon  us  to  meet  the  crisis 
like  men. 

The  Vice-President  of  our  bank  met  it  by  promptly 
resigning  and  withdrawing  his  deposits ! 

Then  we  were  three,  a  local  lawyer,  who  had  impov- 
erished himself  in  purchasing  his  little  block  of  stock, 
and  could  not  be  looked  to  for  further  contributions ;  B. 
R.  Cowell,  an  honest  man  with  ample  funds,  but  unfor- 
tunately the  proprietor  of  a  large  dance  hall,  and  myself. 

Our  lawyers  counseled  us  to  keep  the  bank  open  at 
all  hazards,  for  the  credit  of  the  city  no  less  than  to  facil- 
itate collections  of  our  loans. 

This  involved  reinforcement  of  the  bank's  cash  in  the 
sum  of  $83,000,  since  there  was  no  assurance  a  run 
would  not  follow  disclosures  of  the  flight  of  Howell. 

Cowell  and  I  supplied  the  deficiency  from  our  own 
private  purses,  and  the  bank  continued  to  do  business 
as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Howell  had,  long  before  the  reorganization  of  the 
bank,  thrown  out  a  hint  that  he  contemplated  a  trip  to 
Europe,  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  there  a  sale  of  a 
large  body  of  land  in  New  Mexico  and  a  cattle  ranch  in 
Western  Colorado. 

We  comforted  ourselves  with  the  reflection  that  he 
may  have  gone  upon  that  dual  mission,  and  indulged  a 
hope  that  he  might  be  successful,  in  which  event  he 
would  return  and  make  good  his  robbery  of  the  City 
Bank !  Vain  hope ! 

£271] 


We  got  in  communication  with  him,  and  he  con- 
firmed our  frail  conviction,  reported  progress,  and 
named  a  date  for  his  arrival  in  New  York. 

The  Board  of  Directors,  of  course,  had  deposed  him 
as  President  and  elected  me  to  fill  the  vacancy,  and  we 
were  acting  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  advice  of 
counsel,  Messrs.  Parsons  and  Walling. 

Howell's  letters,  however,  had  become  less  frequent 
and  more  ambiguous,  vascillating  and  misleading  in  tone. 
He  had  fixed  a  number  of  dates  for  "sailing,"  but  always 
failed  to  sail,  until  finally  it  became  obvious  that  no  re- 
liance could  be  placed  upon  his  promises. 

Then  we  were  advised  to  take  drastic  action  for  our 
protection,  in  so  far  as  was  possible.  Attachments  were 
levied  upon  the  Howell  Block,  the  Chicago  Block,  and 
such  other  property  as  could  be  found  standing  in  his 
name,  the  whole  aggregating  in  value  a  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars.  Then  we  quietly  awaited  his  coming. 

No  member  of  the  Board  of  Directors  was  familiar 
with  the  intricacies  of  banking,  and  in  the  transfer  of 
the  assets  of  the  old  to  the  new  bank,  as  well  as  in  its 
subsequent  conduct,  the  fullest  confidence  had  been  re- 
posed in  Cashier  Hill. 

It  will  doubtless  have  occurred  to  the  reader  that  in 
the  majority  of  instances  the  fellow  who  runs  away  with 
a  bank's  funds  is  the  "long  trusted  and  loyal"  employee. 
In  this  case  the  complicity  of  Hill  in  the  wrong-doing  of 
Howell  was  fully  realized  by  the  Board.  However,  he 
was  not  only  the  most  important,  but  the  sole  witness, 
and  we  neither  could  dispense  with  his  services  nor  ap- 
pear to  distrust  him.  A  bank  cashier  must  needs  be 
trusted  fully  or  not  at  all.  And,  from  my  experience  and 
observation,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  no  safeguards 
ever  provided  by  the  ingenuity  of  law-makers  will  suf- 

[272] 


fice  to  prevent  a  clever  manipulator  from  plundering  a 
bank. 

We  had  tied  up  Howell's  property,  lest  he  should,  on 
arrival  in  New  York,  make  a  conveyance  of  all  of  it  and 
leave  us  to  "hold  the  bag."  We  entertained  no  other 
thought  or  belief  than  that  he  would,  upon  returning  to 
Leadville,  confess  to  what  was  so  palpably  true  and  en- 
deavor to  make  terms  with  us.  But  we  had  counted 
without  our  host.  His  first  step  was  to  employ  able 
counsel ;  his  next  was  to  take  to  the  street,  and  proclaim 
to  all  who  would  listen  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  damn- 
able conspiracy;  that  the  Directors  of  the  Bank,  taking 
advantage  of  his  enforced  absence,  had  deposed  him  as 
President,  and  were  attempting  to  strip  him  of  his  prop- 
erty! The  public  had  not  been  advised  of  his  rascally 
conduct,  and  it  was  not  unnatural,  in  view  of  his  pre- 
vious high  standing  in  the  community,  that  his  plausible 
story  should  have  carried  convicetion  to  some  of  his 
listeners.  I  was  too  busy  to  follow  on  his  trail  and  con- 
tradict his  lies ;  and  our  lawyers  would  not,  at  that  time, 
permit  me  to  expose  him  in  my  newspapers,  so  the  silence 
of  myself  and  associates,  under  the  most  persistent  pres- 
sure for  explanations,  encouraged  by  the  opposition 
press,  was  taken  as  a  confession  that  Howell's  accusa- 
tions were  true. 

Battling  as  I  was  to  protect  what  remained  of  the 
bank's  assets,  and  save  the  depositors  from  loss,  I  was 
entitled  to  the  support  of  the  community;  but,  when  it 
began  to  appear  I  was  not  to  have  it,  my  courage  almost 
deserted  me.  I  was  not  unmindful  that  communities  as 
well  as  republics  are  ungrateful,  but  when  old  friends 
began  to  eye  me  suspiciously,  and  glance  inquiringly  at 
me  as  I  passed  them  on  the  street,  I  wondered,  as  Col. 
Joyce  had  once  wondered,  "whether  loyalty  and  fidelity 

[273] 


were  but  names,  and  gratitude  a  mockery  and  sham  to 
lure  the  brave  to  destruction." 

The  friends  that  I  loved  in  December, 
And  cherished  so  fondly  in  May, 

Have  long  since  forgot  to  remember, 
And  vanished  like  dew  drops  away. 

In  sunshine  and  power  I  was  toasted, 
And  feasted  by  courtiers  so  kind ; 

And  oh !  how  the  parasites  boasted 

Of  the  wonderful  traits  of  my  mind! 

But  when  the  dark  hour  of  my  trouble 
Arose  like  a  storm  in  the  sky, 

The  vipers  began  to  play  double, 

And  forgot  the  bright  glance  of  my  eye. 

In  the  attachment  suit  for  $125,000  it  became  neces- 
sary for  us  to  furnish  a  bond  in  double  the  amount,  a 
round  quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  In  the  existing  state 
of  the  public  mind  I  felt  indisposed  to  ask  fellow  towns- 
men to  qualify  on  that  bond.  Instead,  I  visited  Circle- 
ville,  Ohio,  where  lived  the  owners  of  75  per  cent,  of  the 
capital  stock  of  the  City  National,  and  they  made 
for  me  an  acceptable  indemnifying  bond  for  use  in  Col- 
orado. While  there  I  learned  a  fact  which,  viewed  in 
the  light  of  the  remarkable  developments  at  Leadville, 
was  decidedly  mirth-provoking.  The  owners  of  the 
First  National  Bank  of  Circleville  were  divided  into  two 
cliques,  and,  when  Howell  appeared  with  his  stock  book, 
there  was  bitter  rivalry  between  the  factions  as  to  which 
should  have  the  larger  share  of  his  rich  plum !  He  was 
considerably  embarrassed  in  making  the  allotment 
among  his  former  friends  and  townspeople. 

Howell  had  conceived  a  well-devised  scheme  to  de- 
feat our  legal  contention.  Hill  alone  stood  in  his  way. 

[274] 


He  had  been  advised  of  his  removal  from  the  Presidency, 
and  he  calculated  if  he  could  control  Hill,  or  induce  that 
troublesome  factor  to  absent  himself,  he  would  be  able 
to  go  into  court  with  the  claim  that  the  bank  was  insol- 
vent, that  none  of  its  officers  were  in  the  State,  and  that 
a  receiver  should  be  appointed  to  wind  up  its  affairs. 

The  "court,"  before  whom  such  a  proceeding  would 
be  brought,  was  Luther  M.  Goddard,  to  whom,  in  a  pre- 
vious campaign,  Howell  had  loaned  $5000  of  the  bank's 
funds  on  his  unsecured  note  of  hand,  and  the  Sheriff, 
upon  whom  would  devolve  the  duty  of  summoning  the 
jury,  was  also  under  similar  obligations  for  the  loan  of  a 
still  larger  amount. 

Thus  Howell  began  his  campaign  with  the  legal  ma- 
chinery of  the  district  as  he  supposed,  firmly  in  his  grasp. 
The  Board  of  Directors  realized  that  they  were  up 
against  a  brace  game,  but  there  was  no  alternative  but 
to  proceed  with  all  of  the  equities  on  our  side. 

Howell's  first  move  was  to  attempt  the  bribery  of 
Hill,  but  the  latter,  fearing  that  he  might  become  in- 
volved with  Howell,  as  he  would  have  been,  stood  firm. 
Then  Howell  resorted  to  threats,  which  were  quite  as 
ineffectual.  Again  approaching  Hill,  he  offered  to  cancel 
a  personal  note  for  $2000  which  he  held,  and  give  him 
$1000  in  cash,  provided  Hill  would  leave  the  State  until 
the  vile  plot  could  be  consummated.  Howell,  of  course, 
assumed  that  Judge  Goddard  would  appoint  him  the  re- 
ceiver, and  thus  enable  him  to  gather  in  what  he  had  not 
already  stolen  from  the  bank.  It  was  a  very  pretty  plot 
— but  "there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip," 
and  all  of  his  nicely  adjusted  plans  went  awry. 

At  this  juncture  we  were  advised  by  counsel  to  per- 
mit Hill  to  accept  Howell's  offer  of  a  bribe,  to  deceive 
him  into  the  belief  that  he  had  left  the  State,  and  then 
produce  Hill  in  court  at  the  psychological  moment,  when 

[275] 


Howell  should  set  up  his  claim  that  no  responsible  officer 
of  the  bank  was  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  court. 

One  stormy  night  Hill  gravitated  between  Howeirs 
private  office  and  the  Director's  room  of  the  bank,  where 
the  Board  was  in  continuous  session,  directing  Hill's 
movements,  Howell  being  without  suspicion  of  our  prox- 
imity. Just  at  break  of  day,  the  negotiations  having 
been  carried  on  throughout  the  night,  Hill  came  in  with 
his  personal  cancelled  note  for  $2000,  and  ten  crisp  notes 
of  $100  each,  every  one  of  which  he  at  once  marked  for 
identification. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Hill  should  ask  for  a  thirty 
days'  leave  of  absence,  in  order  to  respond  to  a  hurry 
call  to  his  sick  wife  in  Canada;  Hill  and  Howell  were 
to  leave  that  evening  for  the  East,  to  breakfast  together 
in  Denver,  and  then  separate. 

Hill  was  provided  with  a  fictitious  name,  and  a  cipher 
code  was  agreed  upon  . 

We  went  through  the  form  of  checking  Hill  out  in 
the  morning,  to  mislead  Howell,  and  the  latter's  elab- 
orate program  seemed  to  be  in  a  fair  way  of  being  car- 
ried out  to  the  letter. 

During  the  day  Hill  learned  that  Howell  would 
travel  by  the  Union  Pacific,  and  inasmuch  as  Hill  had 
a  pass  over  the  other  road,  the  decision  to  go  to  the 
valley  by  different  routes  met  with  Howell's  approval, 
both  trains  arriving  at  Denver  about  the  same  hour. 

As  suspected,  Howell  had  a  spy  at  the  depot,  who 
promtply  reported  to  him  at  the  other  station  that  Hill 
had  bought  a  Pullman  ticket  and  taken  the  train.  We 
also  had  a  spy  at  the  other  train  to  see  that  it  was 
boarded  by  Howell.  But  at  the  same  time  we  had  a 
closed  carriage  at  Malta,  five  miles  below  Leadville,  to 
bring  Hill  back  to  the  city. 

We  calculated  that  Howell,  advised  by  his  agent  that 

[27«] 


i 


Hill  had  actually  departed  from  Leadville,  would  assume 
that  Hill  had  decided  to  go  East  from  Pueblo,  or,  at 
least,  would  not  be  suspicious  that  he  had  been  double- 
crossed  by  Hill.  He  had  bought  and  paid  for  him,  and 
was  entitled  to  the  goods.  But  in  all  these  surmises  we 
had  too  heavily  discounted  Howell's  sagacity.  Hill  not 
meeting  him  at  the  Denver  Union  Depot,  the  truth 
flashed  upon  Howell  that  he  had  been  victimized,  and 
he  returned  to  Leadville  on  the  next  train.  It  was  ob- 
vious to  him,  although  he  failed  to  locate  Hill,  that  his 
scheme  had  miscarried.  It  was  quite  as  certain  that  we 
should  not  have  opportunity  to  consummate  ours. 

At  this  juncture  our  lawyers  advised  that  the  public 
be  made  acquainted  with  the  whole  story,  from  the  re- 
organization of  the  bank,  and,  with  their  assistance,  a 
fourteen-column  article  was  prepared  for  the  next  day's 
issue  of  the  Chronicle. 

Not  a  fact  was  concealed,  nor  a  detail  omitted.  There 
wasn't  a  dull  paragraph  in  the  statement,  and  it  was  em- 
bellished with  cuts  of  Howell  and  Hill,  a  fac  simile  re- 
production of  the  cancelled  $2000  note,  and  of  the  fic- 
titious name  by  which  Hill  was  to  be  known  in  the  cor- 
respondence, in  Howell's  well-known  hand-writing,  to- 
gether with  an  elucidation  of  the  secret  code  for  the  use 
of  the  conspirators. 

The  publication  of  this  article  produced  a  decided 
sensation  in  Leadville  and  throughout  the  State.  It  was 
calculated  to  crush  any  ordinary  man,  but  Howell  was 
not  that  sort  of  a  personage,  and  as  long  as  he  had  funds 
with  which  to  do  battle  we  knew  he  would  maintain  the 
struggle. 

Howell,  after  the  first  shock  produced  by  the  publi- 
cation, returned  to  Denver  and  filed  suit  against  me  for 
libel,  claiming  damages  in  the  sum  of  $150,000. 

I  at  once  published  the  complaint  in  its  entirety,  re- 

[277] 


peating  the  allegations  of  the  original  article,  whereupon 
he  brought  another  suit,  and  it  was  treated  in  the  same 
manner,  until  finally  his  suits,  filed  in  three  divisions  of 
the  Denver  courts,  numbered  thirteen,  the  damages 
claimed  aggregating  $1,800,000. 

Not  satisfied  with  his  efforts  in  thus  speculating  upon 
his  bankrupt  reputation,  he  took  advantage  of  every  sub- 
sequent visit  to  Denver  to  have  me  arrested  on  a  charge 
of  criminal  libel,  a  penal  offense  in  Colorado,  thus  sub- 
jecting me  to  the  annoyance  of  giving  bond  in  each  case. 
By  means  of  liberal  tips  to  process-servers,  he  managed 
to  have  these  warrants  served  upon  me  just  as  I  was 
entering  the  train  for  home,  thus  compelling  me  to  re- 
main over  night. 

To  avoid  such  delays,  after  the  first,  I  provided  my- 
self with  a  bond  in  blank,  otherwise  duly  executed,  and 
this  I  kept  on  my  person  awaiting  the  approach  of  the 
Sheriff's  minions. 

Our  cases  dragged  in  the  courts,  as  such  proceedings 
too  often  do,  and  there  came  a  time  when  Cashier  Hill 
did  in  fact  have  a  call  to  hasten  to  the  bedside  of  his 
sick  wife  in  Toronto.  He  had  been  loyal  up  to  that 
period ;  was,  in  fact,  worn  out  with  the  work  and  excite- 
ment attending  the  details  of  preparation  for  the  trial, 
and  was  entitled  to  a  vacation.  Since  he  would  have 
taken  it  any  way,  we  granted  his  request  with  all  the 
grace  possible. 

We  carefully  checked  up  the  books,  found  his  ac- 
counts correct,  and  parted  with  him — forever! 

Within  a  fortnight  after  Hill's  departure,  the  bank 
began  to  receive  inquiries  from  its  correspondents  at  dif- 
ferent points  regarding  collections  of  which  we  had  no 
record.  Of  the  collections  received  on  the  morning  of 
his  last  day,  abnormally  large,  Hill  had  entered  a  few  in 
the  collection  book,  made  the  collections  and  duly  ac- 

[278] 


counted  for  the  proceeds.  The  collections  thus  entered 
averaged  very  well  with  other  days,  and  corresponding 
dates  for  weeks  and  months  past,  and  there  was  nothing 
on  the  collection  side  to  cause  special  wonder  or  provoke 
suspicion.  But  he  had  collected  $8000  in  excess  of  the 
items  accounted  for,  and  pocketed  the  proceeds ! 

This  was  the  straw  that  finally  broke  our  backs.  Then 
it  was  that  our  counsel  advised  going  into  voluntary 
liquidation. 

I  still  was  determined  that  the  depositors  should  not 
suffer  to  the  extent  of  one  penny,  but  cash  in  bank  again 
was  insufficient,  in  the  sum  of  $8000,  with  which  to  meet 
legitimate  demands.  Then,  for  a  second  time,  Cowell 
and  myself  supplied  the  shortage  from  our  own  private 
purses,  advertised  our  purpose  to  liquidate,  and  called 
upon  depositors  to  call  for  their  balances. 

All  responded  except  two.  One  of  these,  as  soon 
developed,  was  a  school  teacher,  the  other  a  miner.  That 
these  two  should  not  be  deprived  of  their  funds,  even 
for  a  brief  period,  I  bought  certificates  of  the  Carbonate 
National  Bank  and  laid  them  aside,  subject  to  call. 
Singularly  enough,  although  delighted  to  learn  that  they 
were  not  to  suffer  loss  by  reason  of  the  suspension  of  the 
bank,  neither  seemed  to  have  confidence  in  the  Carbon- 
ate; hence  both  cashed  the  certificates  and  deposited  the 
proceeds  in  other  banks,  the  one  in  the  First  National, 
the  other  in  the  Merchants  and  Mechanics.  Within  a 
fortnight  the  doors  of  both  closed,  and  the  two  luckless 
depositors  lost  all  they  had! 

Dr.  D.  H.,  Dougan,  President  of  the  Carbonate 
National  Bank,  was  named  as  assignee  of  the  City 
National,  and  set  about  the  work  of  winding  up  the 
affairs  of  the  bank. 

While  this  progressed,  Howell  for  a  time  disappeared 
from  view.  Funds  exhausted,  his  lawyers  refused  longer 

[279] 


to  fight  his  battles,  and  it  became  necessary  to  reinforce 
his  depleted  treasury  in  other  fields.  Information 
reached  us  that  he  had  been  forced  to  leave  Oklahoma 
City  between  two  days,  on  account  of  some  crooked  deal, 
and  later  had  a  narrow  escape  from  lynching,  at  the 
hands  of  infuriated  miners  in  the  Cour  d'  Alene  country, 
whose  property  he  had  jumped. 

A  year  later  he  was  found  occupying  wretched  quar- 
ters in  West  Denver,  living  under  an  assumed  name, 
crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  without  sufficient  funds 
to  purchase  a  meal  ticket ! 

Dr.  Dougan,  assignee  of  the  bank,  had  once  declared : 
"I  will  drive  that  embossed  rascal  out  of  the  State  in  his 
stocking  feet."  The  opportunity  for  doing  so  was  now 
at  hand,  but  the  Doctor's  sympathy  and  consideration 
prevailed  in  the  end,  and  Howell  was  sent  to  his  former 
Ohio  home  in  a  Pullman  car,  after  having  relinquished 
all  claims  to  Leadville  property,  and  dismissed  his  mul- 
tiple libel  suits  against  me. 

The  only  victims  of  his  plundering  were  the  owners 
of  the  bank.  They  lost  not  only  their  original  invest- 
ment—$100,000,  but  the  $83,000  advanced  to  make  it 
solvent  and  save  its  honor.  It  at  least  enjoys  the  proud 
distinction  of  being  the  only  bank  in  the  whole  history 
of  Colorado  that,  failing,  paid  dollar  for  dollar  to  its 
depositors.  That  is  all  we  inherited  from  the  wreck. 
But  it  was  enough.  Such  a  record  is  worth  while;  it  will 
endure. 

The  Carbonate  National  Bank  was  the  first  in  Lead- 
ville to  be  conducted  under  the  strictest  rules  of  banking. 
It  was  organized  more  to  afiford  facilities  for  the  great 
mining  and  smelting  industries  of  the  district  than  to 
make  money,  but  it  accomplished  both,  and  soon  came 
to  be  regarded  as  among  the  stable  banking  institutions 
of  the  State.  Indeed,  during  the  trying  period  following 

[280] 


the  financial  panic  of  '93,  when  contemporaries  resorted 
to  the  certificate  device,  it  continued  to  pay  out  good 
hard  money  on  demand,  and  during  the  whole  period, 
embracing  over  six  months,  it  carried  in  its  vaults  $1.15, 
on  an  average,  for  every  dollar  of  deposits.  It  also  dis- 
played, in  a  show  case,  more  than  the  average  capital  of 
national  banks — $150,000 — of  wire  and  leaf  gold,  merely 
as  an  advertisement. 

Notwithstanding  this  visible  evidence  of  solvency, 
there  was  a  run  upon  the  bank,  during  which  a  very 
amusing  incident  took  place.  A  woman  was  in  the  line 
of  depositors,  and,  as  is  well  known,  one  woman  may 
make  more  commotion  than  a  dozen  men.  This  particu- 
lar female  was  one  who  frequently  had  been  accommo- 
dated by  the  bank.  She  was  fearful  lest  all  the  funds 
should  disappear  before  she  could  reach  the  paying 
teller's  window,  and  when  she  got  there,  having  failed 
to  endorse  her  paper,  had  to  leave  the  line  and  repeat  the 
operation.  Learning  by  the  newspapers  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  that  the  Bank  had  received  more  than  it 
had  paid  out,  she  determined  to  redeposit  her  funds.  She 
also  thought  it  necessary  to  say  something  by  way  of 
explanation,  and  was  most  unfortunate  in  her  choice  of 
language. 

"I  drew  my  money  out  yesterday,  Mr.  Trimble,  think- 
ing I  was  going  to  leave  the  city." 

"Like  hell  you  did,"  snapped  Mr.  Trimble,  "you 
thought  we  were  going  to  leave  the  city !" 

The  truth  so  palpable,  the  banker's  brusqueness  may 
well  have  been  overlooked,  and  his  refusal  to  receive  her 
funds  excused. 

The  bank  survived  the  run,  of  course,  deposits  ex- 
ceeding withdrawals,  as  it  also  had  survived  the  threat 
of  the  Elkins'  crowd  to  break  it,  set  out  in  another  chap- 
ter. They  checked  out  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  the 

[281] 


day  after  the  convention,  but  its  resources  were  not  ma- 
terially affected  by  the  flurry.  The  stability  of  the  Car- 
bonate National  did  much  to  restore  public  confidence, 
so  severely  wrenched  by  the  failure  of  the  other  banks. 

The  banking  history  of  Leadville  might  be  written 
down  as  a  huge  joke,  were  there  not  connected  with  it 
so  many  sad,  pathetic  incidents.  Such  things  could  not 
happen  today;  they  belong  to  an  era  long  passed,  never 
to  return. 

The  last  venture  was  made  by  a  person  named  Peter 
W.  Breene,  whom  I  first  knew  as  a  miner  in  1879,  turn- 
ing a  windlass  at  $4  a  day,  a  man  whom  I  last  saw  as  a 
prisoner  in  the  county  jail,  accused  of  peculiar  banking 
methods.  He  had  had  the  hardihood  to  open  a  private 
bank  and  solicit  deposits,  when  its  total  resources  were 
not  equal  to  the  value  of  furniture  and  fixtures.  Fortu- 
nately it  was  closed  by  its  creditors  before  victims  had 
accumulated. 

It  is  only  common  justice  to  Mr.  Breene  to  state  that 
he  since  has  emerged  from  all  of  his  financial  troubles 
with  great  credit;  he  has  accumulated  another  fortune, 
paid  off  all  of  his  obligations,  and  I  rejoice  to  learn  that 
once  again  he  is  on  the  high  road  to  prosperity,  enjoying 
the  restored  confidence  of  the  community. 


[282] 


WILLIAM    ("UNCLE    BILLY")    STEVEN: 

Principal   Owner   Iron-Silver 

Mine,    Leadville 


W1LLARD    S.    MORSE 

American    Mining    and 

Smelting    Co. 


SAMUEL  D.   NICHOLSON 
One  of  Leadville's   Best 
Known  Mine  Managers 


EDWARD     EDDY 

Omaha   and   Grant   Smelting 

and    Refining    Co. 


CHAPTER  LVIL 

A  STORMY  POLITICAL  BATTLE  AS  AN  AFTERMATH  OF 
THE  CITY  NATIONAL  BANK  Row 

Dr.  Dougan  and  others  appreciated  my  behavior  in 
the  bank  scrape,  and  declared  that  the  community  should, 
when  suitable  opportunity  offered,  give  substantial 
recognition  of  it.  This  happened  ere  long.  Managers 
of  the  Republican  party,  in  the  spring  of  '84,  conceded 
to  Leadville  representation  on  the  delegation  to  the 
national  convention  to  be  held  in  June.  To  represent  a 
great  State  in  a  convention  called  to  nominate  a  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States  is  a  position  of  trust  and  honor 
to  which  any  man  might  aspire.  Dr.  Dougan  realized 
that  I  would  greatly  prize  the  distinction,  especially  were 
it  to  come  as  a  spontaneous  offering,  but  I  surely  would 
not  have  considered  the  matter  for  a  moment  had  I 
known  the  seat  was  to  be  contested.  That  fact  only 
developed  when  surrender  with  honor  was  not  possible. 

I  early  had  championed  the  aspirations  of  Mr.  Blaine 
for  the  Presidency,  and  I  had  much  pleasure  in  anticipa- 
tion of  modest  service  in  his  cause  at  Chicago.  But  a 
conflicting  interest  arose,  lending  an  unpleasant  phase 
to  the  campaign  in  my  interest.  Senator  Stephen  B. 
Elkins,  of  West  Virginia,  and  Hon.  Richard  Kerens, 
of  St.  Louis,  with  their  associates,  owned  one  of  the 
largest  mines  in  Leadville,  managed  by  John  Elkins, 
brother  of  the  Senator. 

The  Eastern  members  of  the  syndicate,  personal  as 
well  as  political  friends  of  Mr.  Blaine,  naturally  desired, 
and  confidently  expected,  to  be  able  to  dictate  the  selec- 

[283] 


tion  of  the  Leadville  delegate,  and  John  Elkins  was  the 
gentleman  chosen  to  make  the  contest.  He  reasonably 
expected  the  mining  interest  would  solidly  back  his 
claims,  and  with  the  thousand  men  in  his  own  mine  as  a 
nucleus,  a  walk-over  for  the  gentleman  was  freely  pre- 
dicted. 

But  Dr.  Dougan  was  not  a  member  of  the  "quitter" 
class,  and  the  fight  was  on.  I  had  not  a  dollar  for  cam- 
paign purposes,  while  Mr.  Elkins'  purse  was  of  illimit- 
able length.  It  was  said  that  $60,000  was  spent  by  him 
and  his  backers  in  the  campaign,  but  the  Dougan  ticket 
carried  twenty-three  of  the  twenty-seven  precincts  in 
the  county,  giving  to  my  friends  overwhelming  control. 

The  Elkins  crowd,  however,  in  contempt  of  political 
ethics  and  precedent,  carried  the  fight  to  the  floor  of  the 
convention,  and,  among  other  desperate  things,  they 
sent  a  note  to  Dr.  Dougan,  warning  him  that,  unless  he 
should  immediately  abandon  the  Davis  cause,  they  would 
start  a  run  on  his  bank  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  close 
its  doors. 

This  so  incensed  Dr.  Dougan  that,  immediately  upon 
the  close  of  the  convention,  he  called  a  special  session  of 
the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  bank  and  tendered  his 
resignation.  He  at  that  time  also  was  Mayor  of  the  City 
and  Manager  of  the  Arkansas  Valley  Smelter.  Both  of 
these  lucrative  positions  he  also  resigned,  sold  his  home 
and  removed  to  Denver,  declaring  that  he  would  "be 
d d  if  he  would  longer  live  in  such  a  community !" 

The  incident  here  related  is  to  accentuate  one  of  the 
grandest  Damon-and-Pythias  acts  in  modern  history. 
Certainly  such  evidence  of  loyalty  to  a  friend  is  not  fre- 
quently encountered  in  the  political  annals  of  any  State. 

Aside  from  casting  my  vote  five  times  for  James  G. 
Blaine,  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  accomplished  much 
at  Chicago.  I,  however,  have  to  record,  with  a  degree 

[284] 


of  humiliation,  my  failure  to  accomplish  one  praise- 
worthy thing,  traceable  to  the  working  of  one  of  those 
acts  of  usurpation  by  the  managers  of  the  party,  the 
frequent  resort  to  which,  subsequently,  contributed  to 
the  defeat  and  disruption  of  the  national  organization. 

What  I  failed  in  doing  was  to  defeat  the  ambition  of 
ex-Senator  Jerome  B.  Chaffee  to  represent  Colorado  on 
the  Republican  National  Committee.  He,  at  the  time, 
was  a  resident  of  New  York  City,  and  had  not  been  in 
Colorado  for  years.  I  regarded  it  as  little  less  than  a 
disgrace  to  have  the  State  represented  by  a  non-resident, 
however  able,  and  that  constituted  the  basis  of  my  oppo- 
sition. 

It  always  had  been  the  custom  for  the  national  con- 
vention to  ratify  the  selection  of  national  committeemen 
by  the  several  State  delegations,  a  mere  matter  of  form. 
The  Colorado  delegation  had  outvoted  me  in  caucus,  and 
my  only  hope  was  to  carry  the  matter  to  the  floor  of  the 
convention.  I  intended,  when  Colorado  should  be  called 
and  the  name  of  Chaff ee  announced,  to  move  the  substi- 
tution for  it  of  the  name  of  some  other  distinguished 
citizen,  who  at  least  had  a  domicile  in  the  State.  I  felt 
that  a  mere  statement  of  the  facts  would  carry  convic- 
tion to  the  convention  that  my  contention  was  not  only 
just,  but  good  politics  as  well.  I  had  been  promised  the 
support  of  General  Powell  Clayton,  of  Arkansas,  Mr. 
Massey,  of  Delaware,  and  other  influential  factors  from 
other  States,  and  all  details  were  completed  for  a  pretty 
little  fight,  should  Chaffee's  friends  make  a  stand. 

But,  when  the  roll  call  for  nomination  of  national 
committeemen  had  reached  Colorado,  the  chairman  of 
our  delegation  was  conveniently  absent  from  his  seat, 
and  the  State  was  passed. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  new  national  committee,  held 
after  adjournment,  a  vacancy  in  Colorado's  representa- 

[285] 


tion  was  announced,  in  accordance  with  the  program, 
and  Senator  Jerome  B.  Chaff ee  was  chosen  to  fill  it. 

The  friends  of  that  distinguished  gentleman  dared 
not  face  the  issue  in  the  convention,  and  achieved  their 
object  by  resort  to  a  measly  trick,  unworthy  the  repre- 
sentatives of  a  great  national  party,  with  a  record  for 
nobler  ideals  and  grander  achievements. 

I  later  filed  a  protest  with  the  national  committee, 
but  the  probabilities  are  that  it  found  permanent  lodg- 
ment in  the  pigeon-hole  of  Chairman  Jones'  desk. 

The  Elkins  crowd,  sore  over  their  overwhelming  de- 
feat in  the  primaries,  were  not  disposed  to  regard  it  as 
a  closed  incident,  and  after  the  June  convention  began 
a  crusade  against  me.  Reasoning  that,  because  I  held  a 
commission  from  President  Arthur,  I  should  have  voted 
for  him  for  the  Presidential  nomination,  they  endeav- 
ored to  have  me  removed  from  the  Postmastership,  re- 
lying upon  the  chief  executive  to  find  some  other  pretext 
for  it. 

The  matter  could  scarcely  have  been  regarded  as  a 
national  issue ;  yet  it  was  considered  at  a  meeting  of  the 
cabinet.  Mr.  Rose,  one  of  the  President's  private  secre- 
taries, later  advised  me  that  Mr.  Arthur,  after  the  mat- 
ter was  broached  and  opinions  expressed,  dismissed  the 
subject  with  the  remark:  "I  would  like  to  meet  that 
Leadville  Postmaster.  I  would  like  to  see  a  man  un- 
willing to  exchange  his  convictions  for  a  petty  federal 
position." 

Thus,  without  so  much  as  the  wink  of  an  eye-lash, 
did  I  score  another  knock-out  for  the  Elkins-Kerens 
gang  of  political  plotters  and  traffickers. 

The  roll  call  of  States  for  the  fifth  ballot  for  President 
had  not  progressed  very  far  before  it  became  apparent 
that,  by  reason  of  numerous  changes  from  the  previous 
ballot,  the  vote  was  likely  to  be  exceedingly  close,  if  in- 

[286] 


deed  the  convention  was  not  stampeded  to  Elaine.  I 
took  a  gambler's  chance,  and  stepping  into  the  telegraph 
booth  near  by  I  filed  a  message  to  my  paper  to  the  effect 
that  Elaine  had  been  nominated  on  the  fifth  ballot.  How 
I  might  get  out  of  the  scrape,  should  my  belief  not  be 
confirmed,  I  did  not  stop  to  consider.  Immediately  after 
the  announcement  of  the  ballot  the  convention  adjourned. 
At  my  hotel  I  found  a  telegram  awaiting  me,  which  read 
as  follows: 

"Leadville,  Colo.,  June  6,  1884. 
"Hon.  C.  C.  Davis,  Colorado  Delegation,  Grand  Pacific 

Hotel. 

"The  Republicans  of  Lake  County  send  greetings. 
You  did  her  proud!  Shake!  Paint  it  red! 

"D.  H.  DOUGAN, 

"S.  J.  HANNA, 

"GEO.  S.  PHELPS, 

"JAMES  SHIRE, 

"W.  H.  RUPERT, 

"W.  R.  PHELPS, 

"R.  H.  STANLEY, 

"NOAH  GREGG, 

"H.  B.  JOHNSON, 

"JOHN  M.  MAXWELL, 

"W.  W.  OLDS, 

"C.  C.  JOY, 

"P.  W.  REARDON, 

"And  three  hundred  others." 

The  people  of  Leadville  were  thus  advised  of  the 
nomination  of  Elaine  a  full  hour  before  the  result  of 
the  fifth  ballot  had  been  announced  to  the  convention. 
Inan  access  of  patriotic  enthusiasm  hundreds  had  quickly 
formed  in  line,  and,  headed  by  the  Geo.  W.  Cook  Drum 
Corps,  paraded  the  streets  in  honor  of  the  event,  halting 
at  the  telegraph  office  to  file  the  above  dispatch.  In  a 
brief  speech  from  the  balcony  of  the  hotel,  in  the  evening, 

[287] 


I  told  the  crowd  of  the  incident,  and  suggested  that  the 
popular  movement  for  the  election  of  Elaine  having  been 
thus  early  started  at  an  elevation  of  two  miles  above  the 
sea,  would  move  quickly  by  gravity  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  nation  and  land  the  peerless  statesman  in 
the  chair  of  Lincoln  and  of  Grant.  The  idea  made  an 
instant  hit  and  created  much  enthusiasm. 


[288] 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE  STATE  TREASURY  RING  BEATEN  TO  A  FRAZZLE  AND 
DRIVEN  FROM  POWER 

Peter  W.  Breene  was  an  unlettered  Irishman,  lately 
arrived  from  Erin,  but  one  whose  native  shrewdness 
served  the  dual  function  of  wealth  and  education.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  favorable  conditions  existing — the 
absorption  of  the  better  element  in  business  pursuits  and 
their  indifference  to  politics — Breene  soon  graduated 
from  the  windlass  to  the  caucus  room,  and  became  a 
political  factor  in  Leadville  and  the  State  to  be  reckoned 
with.  Modest  enough  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  a 
seat  in  the  United  States  Senate  finally  was  not  beyond 
his  ambition.  From  Road  Overseer  he  succeeded  to  the 
State  Legislature,  Lieutenant  Governorship  and  State 
Treasurership. 

The  position  of  State  Treasurer,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  gave  to  him  complete  political  mastery  of  his  party 
and  the  State.  Control  of  the  finances  of  the  common- 
wealth enabled  him  to  build  up  a  machine  that  was  all 
powerful.  At  each  recurring  biennial  election,  it  was 
not  a  question  as  to  who  should  be  Governor  or  Justice 
of  the  Supreme  Court,  but  who  should  be  State  Treas- 
urer. The  State  owed  two  or  three  millions  of  dollars, 
evidenced  by  bonds  and  warrants,  upon  which  it  was 
paying  8  to  10  per  cent,  interest.  At  the  same  time  it 
possessed  as  much,  credited  to  various  funds,  but  which 
it  could  not  employ  in  paying  its  creditors.  The  State 
Treasurer  was  unhampered  in  his  practice  of  loaning 
this  money  to  the  banks  of  the  State,  at  various  rates  of 
interest,  and  they  in  turn  loaned  it  to  their  patrons  at  a 

[289] 


much  higher  rate.  The  practice  resulted  in  the  building 
up  of  a  money  trust  that  was  simply  irresistible.  The 
loss  of  interest  to  the  State  was  considerable,  but  the 
iniquity  of  the  practice  did  not  consist  alone  in  that. 
Every  little  bank  in  every  little  community  was  under 
obligations  to  the  State  Treasurer.  In  addition  to  the 
interest  paid,  every  bank  official  felt  in  duty  bound  to 
vote  and  work  for  the  State  Treasurer's  delegates  and 
candidates  at  each  recurring  primary  and  election.  It 
was  a  secret  force,  working  under  cover,  but  working 
day  and  night,  working  insidiously  and  effectively.  It 
was  more  than  a  force,  it  was  a  power,  and  it  could 
not  be  combatted  with  the  usual  weapons. 

I  pointed  out  the  evil,  and  endeavored  unavailingly 
to  arouse  public  sentiment  to  the  importance  of  opposing 
it.  The  same  old  gang  put  up  the  same  old  ticket  in  the 
same  old  way,  and  the  public  continued  to  vote  it  with- 
out heed  of  the  consequences. 

At  last,  realizing  the  futility  of  newspaper  arraign- 
ment, I  decided  upon  a  different  course.  In  the  cam- 
paign of  '88  I  had  made  the  "downing"  of  the  State 
Treasury  ring  the  issue,  and  was  beaten  to  a  frazzle. 
The  gang  carried  nearly  every  precinct  in  the  county, 
carried  them  by  overwhelming  majorities.  Notwith- 
standing this  fact,  I  was  named  as  one  of  the  delegates 
to  the  State  convention.  It  was  good  politics  to  so 
"honor"  me,  for  I  owned  two  daily  newspapers  whose 
support  was  desired.  The  gang  even  went  further,  and 
chose  me  as  chairman  of  the  delegation.  Thus  distin- 
guished, I  dared  not  bolt.  So  they  figured.  I  attended 
the  convention,  and  did  their  bidding  to  the  end,  casting 
the  solid  vote  of  the  delegation  for  every  man  proposed 
— and  the  names,  of  course,  had  all  been  chosen  in  secret 
conclave  before  the  convention  met.  That  was  the  way 
things  were  done  in  those  days.  Individual  delegates 

[290] 


had  no  voice.  The  county  might  as  well  have  sent  one 
man  to  the  State  convention  as  forty-two. 

But  the  ticket  named,  my  time  had  come.  I  had  not 
dared  take  any  one  into  my  confidence.  All  that  re- 
mained for  the  convention  to  do  was  to  adopt  a  platform, 
which  a  picked  committee  had  drafted,  and  adjourn. 

At  this  juncture,  I  turned  to  Breene  and  said :  "Now, 
Pete,  youVe  got  everything  you  want?  All  of  your  peo- 
ple have  been  nominated?" 

"Yes,  Colonel,"  said  the  big  Irishman,  delighted  over 
the  smooth  working  of  his  program,  "I've  got  all  I 
want." 

"Well,  then,  Pete,  if  any  question  of  party  policy 
should  arise,  I  propose  to  poll  the  delegation  upon  it." 

"All  right,  Colonel.  To  hell  with  party  policy.  I 
don't  care  what  the  convention  does  now,  I've  got  my 


men  in." 


To  have  offered  a  resolution  in  open  convention 
would  have  been  worse  than  folly,  and  I  knew  it.  But 
after  the  chairman  had  read  the  resolutions,  and  a  mo- 
tion had  been  made  to  adopt  them  as  read,  I  left  my  seat 
in  the  convention,  and,  advancing  down  the  aisle  a  dozen 
paces,  I  offered  an  amendment  to  the  platform.  It  re- 
cited the  facts,  condemned  in  the  strongest  language  at 
my  command  the  practice,  committed  the  party  to  a  cor- 
rection of  the  abuse,  and  pledged  the  candidates  nomi- 
nated for  the  Legislature  to  pass  a  law,  at  the  next 
session,  making  it  a  penal  offense  for  the  State  Treasurer 
to  absorb  the  interest  upon  public  funds,  and  providing 
that  all  interest  on  public  money  should  thereafter  be 
covered  into  the  State  Treasury. 

In  support  of  my  amendment  I  reminded  the  conven- 
tion that  the  Democrats  would  hold  their  State  conven- 
tion in  the  same  hall  the  following  Monday,  and  that, 
in  the  event  of  the  defeat  of  my  measure,  it  would  be 

[291] 


taken  up  by  them,  and  made  an  issue  in  the  campaign, 
and  that  they  would  sweep  the  State  on  the  issue.  More 
extended  remarks  were  unnecessary. 

Never  before  was  there  such  a  scene  enacted  in  a 
State  Convention.  Gangsters  were  on  their  feet  all  over 
the  hall,  shouting:  "Out  of  order !"  "Put  him  out!" 
"Call  the  roll/'  yells  and  cat-calls. 

A  delegate  moved  the  previous  question,  cutting  off 
debate. 

I  returned  to  my  delegation  and  began  polling  it  on 
my  motion. 

Pete  Breene  raised  a  heavy  cane  over  my  head,  and  in 

threatening  voice,  yelled :  "You  son  of  a  b ,  you  shall 

never  attend  another  State  Convention!" 

At  this  point  Donald  Fletcher,  an  ex-Presbyterian 
preacher,  and  chairman  of  the  Denver  delegation,  stood 
on  a  chair  and  declared,  "Davis,  there  are  sixty-five  men 
in  my  delegation  who  are  going  to  vote  for  your  amend- 
ment, and  they  are  going  to  see  that  you  poll  your  dele- 
gation if  you  want  to." 

That  settled  it.  Fletcher  represented  the  largest 
delegation  in  the  convention.  The  gangsters  saw  "t 
would  be  fatal  to  vote  down  my  resolution,  and,  being 
put  to  a  vote,  it  carried  unanimously,  not  one  delegate 
daring  to  go  on  record  against  it. 

The  party  was  true  to  its  pledge  thus  made.  The 
next  Legislature  passed  the  law  demanded.  Hundreds 
of  thousands  of  dollars  in  interest  have  since  been  saved 
to  the  State.  But,  better  still,  the  "State  Treasury 
Ring"  immediately  went  out  of  business.  However,  its 
members  fired  a  few  parting  shots  at  me  before  doing  so. 

Assuming  that  I  was  indebted  to  the  Carbonate 
National  Bank,  they  threatened  to  withdraw  from  it 
the  State  deposit  of  $250,000,  unless  the  screws  were  at 
once  put  to  me. 

[292] 


The  President  of  the  Bank  told  the  gang  that  he 
thought  Davis  was  right,  and  invited  them  to  withdraw 
the  entire  State  deposit  at  once. 

To  several  railway  managers  they  went  with  threats 
of  adverse  legislation  unless  patronage  was  at  once 
withdrawn  from  my  presses. 

The  managers  replied  that  their  lines  were  the  heav- 
iest taxpayers  in  the  State,  hence  would  be  the  largest 
beneficiaries  of  the  proposed  reform ;  that  it  was  correct 
in  principle,  and  they  proposed  to  stand  by  it. 

In  every  way  that  their  devilish  ingenuity  could  sug- 
gest, the  gang  continued  to  harass  and  attempt  to  cripple 
my  business;  but  I  survived  their  campaign  of  hatred, 
lived  to  see  all  retired  from  public  position,  and  some 
I  pursued  to  the  doors  of  the  penitentiary. 

I  can  truthfully  say,  however,  that  in  my  long  and 
relentless  crusade  against  the  State  Treasury  ring  and 
State  Land  Board  ring — the  membership  of  both  being 
practically  identical — I  never  was  influenced  by  personal 
malice  or  desire  for  individual  reprisal.  I  have  always 
considered  it  the  highest  duty  of  a  journalist  boldly  to 
pursue  official  dishonesty,  and  to  give  the  broadest  pub- 
licity to  official  wrong-doing,  regardless  of  consequences. 
Approval  of  his  own  conscience  is  about  all  a  conscien- 
tious newsman  should  expect  for  sacrifices  made  in  the 
interest  of  the  public  weal. 


[293] 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

EXCESSIVE  WICKEDNESS  REDEEMED  BY  UNEXAMPLED 
CHARITY — THE  FIGHTING  PARSON 

Although  Leadville  long  enjoyed  the  reputation  of 
being  the  "wickedest  city  on  earth,"  I  am  sure  that 
sweet  charity  long  since  redeemed  its  name.  No  city 
ever  contributed  more  lavishly  to  the  sick  and  afflicted 
at  home  and  abroad.  Nor  were  the  contributions  to  suf- 
fering humanity  by  any  means  confined  to  the  wealthy 
class.  When  a  demand  came  for  succor,  the  first  ap- 
peals were  made  to  the  habitues  of  State  Street,  ninety- 
five  per  cent,  of  whom  were  gamblers,  bunco-steerers, 
thieves,  thugs,  dance-hall  keepers,  prostitutes,  or  those 
who  gained  their  livelihood  by  catering  directly  to  the 
vicious  and  semi-criminal  classes.  No  appeal  to  that 
element  ever  went  unanswered.  Nor  was  elaborate  ar- 
gument ever  required  to  call  forth  generous  response.  It 
only  was  necessary  to  say  that  some  person  suffered,  or 
that  some  worthy  cause  needed  assistance,  to  secure  im- 
mediate help.  When  there  was  a  great  national  calam- 
ity, such  as  the  Johnstown  flood,  or  the  Charleston  earth- 
quake, these  people  responded  with  a  lavishness  out  of  all 
proportion  to  their  financial  condition  or  ability  to  give, 
and  it  was  noticeable  that  when  Death  entered  their 
ranks,  and  produced  temporary  cessation  of  mad  revelry 
in  their  midst,  there  was  never  shown  a  disposition  to 
escape  the  duty  of  paying  proper  respect  to  the  memory 
of  the  departed. 

In  a  different  way,  and  characteristic  alone  of  Lead- 
ville, was  the  manner  of  making  collections  for  charit- 

[294] 


able  purposes  from  bonanza  kings,  banks,  mines  and 
smelters.  The  customary  methods  in  vogue  in  other 
places,  of  circulating  subscription  lists  among  this  class, 
was  never  thought  of.  Ordinarily  the  raising  of  large 
sums  for  this  or  that  worthy  purpose  was  left  to  a  com- 
mittee, which  would  meet  and  assess  each  person  or  insti- 
tution, according  to  the  views  entertained  by  the  mem- 
bers as  to  the  amount  each  should  contribute;  then  a 
sub-committee  would  go  from  place  to  place  and  make 
the  collections  accordingly;  and  I  do  not  recall  a  single 
instance  where  any  person  or  institution  objected  to  the 
assessment  or  demurred  to  handing  over  the  sum  de- 
manded. Thus  would  $5,000  to  $10,000,  or  $20,000,  be 
collected  in  a  few  hours,  no  questions  asked,  no  hard 
feelings  entertained. 

A  composite  picture  of  the  extraordinary  charity  that 
characterized  Leadville  would  be  Thomas  Uzzell — 
"Rev."  Thomas  Uzzell  in  Methodist  Conference — but 
Tom  Uzzell,  the  "fighting  parson,"  by  every  one  who 
lived  there  in  the  two  decades  from  78  to  '98.  "The 
Fatherhood  of  God,  the  Brotherhood  of  Man,"  was  the 
broad  plank  in  Tom's  platform,  strong  enough  to  sustain 
the  fabric  built  upon  it,  and  he  cared  little  for  the  details 
that  troubled  some  poor  sticklers  for  rites  and  rituals. 
His  haversack  contained  more  creature  comforts  than 
tracts,  more  food  for  hungry  stomachs  than  precepts, 
more  warm  blankets  for  benumbed  bodies  than  religious 
texts,  more  good  cheer  than  fateful  warning.  His  gos- 
pel was  the  gospel  of  Love,  and  he  preached  it  to  hungry 
mankind  wherever  found,  in  humble  cabin  of  miner,  in 
engine  house  of  smelter,  in  saloon,  in  dance  hall  or  in 
gambling  den. 

The  verse  that  told  of  Tom  Uzzell's  character,  paro- 
chial work  and  mission  may  shock  the  finer  sensibilities 
of  some  of  my  more  pious  readers,  but  it  tells  the  truth 

[295] 


about  a  unique  personality  in  an  environment  never  be- 
fore or  since  developed,  and  is  calculated  to  teach  a  les- 
son of  value,  as  well  as  interest,  to  all  who  will  seek  for 
it  between  the  lines : 


He  hasn't  got  no  high-toned  church  with  Pullman  Palace  pews, 
And  carpets  that  was  only  built  for  patent  leather  shoes, 
An'  pulpit  ornamented  till  its  fit  to  throne  a  king, 
And  royal  robes  and  gold  and  gilt,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing ; 
He  doesn't  wear  his  Sunday  face  an'  manners  every  day, 
With  lips  that  seem  all  cocked  an'  primed  to  utter  "Let  us 

pray;" 
Don't  look  at  sinners  like  he  thought  them  headed  straight  for 

hell, 
That  sort  o'  style  'd  hardly  fit  our  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

He's  just  an  unassumin'  man  that  knows  he  loves  the  Lord, 
And  doesn't  take  on  lofty  frills  interpretin'  his  word ; 
He  doesn't  bank  on  flowery  speech  of  oratoric  tint, 
Nor  meant  to  succor  souls  so  much  as  make  a  show  in  print ; 
The  posts  an'  pillars  of  his  talk  are  solid  common  sense, 
Entwined  with  flowers  here  and  there  of  modest  eloquence. 
Instead  o'  tryin'  to  please  the  ear  as  with  a  talkin'  bell, 
He  aims  his  language  at  the  heart,  does  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

He  doesn't  hold,  and  doesn't  preach,  that  Heaven  is  a  place 
Where  only  them  in  purple  robes  '11  see  the  Master's  face ; 
But  thinks  the  dame  in  calico  or  man  in  overalls 
'11  be  as  good  as  Moneybags  inside  the  Jasper  walls ; 
There  ain't  no  organ  in  his  church  that  bellars  like  a  bull, 
Nor  choir  of  high-priced  singers  of  the  operatic  school. 
The  simple  songs  of  human  love  that  somehow  seem  to  tell 
Of  future  hope,  is  good  enough  for  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

I've  allus  held,  an'  allus  will,  that  preachin'  don't  consist 
Of  snappy  words  an'  poundin'  at  the  Bible  with  the  fist, 
Or  singin'  orthographic  talk  so  gosh  almighty  grand 
That  none  but  college  graduates  can  rise  to  understand ; 
It's  just  the  simple  gospel  truth  put  in  a  kindly  way 
That  camps  right  in  the  sinner's  heart  an'  says  it's  come  to 

stay; 

The  livin'  water  bubblin'  up  from  human  nature's  well, 
And  that's  the  sort  of  talk  you  get  from  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

[296] 


JOHN     LAW 

Pioneer  Physician  and  Philan- 
thropist.  Noted  for  his 

REV.     THOMAS    UZZELL 

The    "Fighting   Parson" 

Famous    for    Practical 

Work  Among  the  Lowly 

PETER    BECKER 

Early  Day  Sheriff.   Noted  for 

Fearless  Discharge  of  Duty 


His  bill  of  fare  ain't  all  made  up  o'  spiritual  bread, 
He  knows  that  well  as  sin-sick  souls  there's  stomachs  to  be  fed  ; 
And  with  them  hands  that  never  tire  in  battlin'  for  the  poor; 
He's  beat  the  gaunt  ol'  world  o'  want  from  many  a  humble 

door; 
He  clothes  the  naked,  soothes  the  sick,  and  when  distress  is 

found 

You're  pretty  sure  to  see  his  tracks  a'  markin'  up  the  ground. 
I  reckon  nothin'  else  but  death  itself  can  ever  quell 
The  charitable  spirit  of  our  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

It  ain't  no  sacriligeous  mood  that's  promptin'  me  to  say 
That  when  we  all  are  rounded  up  on  that  great  final  day, 
When  all  the  quick  an'  all  the  dead  are  called  upon  to  show 
What  nature  o'  defense  thy've  got  for  actions  here  below, 
Jf  you  should  look  'way  up  in  front  an'  see  a  quiet  face, 
That  doesn't  show  a  sign  o'  fear  or  worry  'bout  his  case, 
An'  you  should  wonder  who  could  be  so  sure  o'  heaven — 

WELL, 
Just  edge  up  closer,  an'  you'll  see  it's  Parson  Tom  Uzzell. 

When  Tom  desired  to  make  a  gospel  talk  in  the  lead- 
ing dance  hall  or  gambling  den,  the  floor  was  cheerfully 
cleared  for  the  purpose,  although  the  exchequer  of  the 
establishment  was  to  suffer  heavily  by  the  interruption, 
and  so  high  was  the  respect  for  him  that  the  games  were 
never  resumed,  after  the  meeting  was  over,  until  the  par- 
son had  departed. 

A  zealous  religionist,  the  parson  yet  was  distinctly 
human  in  his  disposition  and  tendencies,with  a  leaning 
toward  a  few  diversions  not  classified  as  strictly  clerical. 
He  loved  to  fish  and  hunt,  and  was  passionately  fond  of 
horses  and  dogs.  Upon  one  occasion  a  wealthy  parish- 
ioner left  the  city  for  a  rather  protracted  absence  in  the 
East,  and  turned  over  to  the  parson  a  span  of  fine  horses 
for  use  in  his  absence.  It  was  a  luxury  highly  appreciated, 
and  joyfully  shared  with  others.  While  riding  with  him 
one  day,  some  one  attempted  to  pass  us  on  the  boulevard. 
Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  the  parson  put  whip  to  his 
team  and  contended  for  the  lead  for  perhaps  a  mile  or 

[297] 


more,  and  until  the  other  party  dropped  back  out  of 
sight. 

The  road  was  exceedingly  dusty,  and  during  the 
rather  exciting  race  the  parson  had  not  uttered  a  word. 
But  as  soon  as  he  discovered  that  the  other  team  was 
distanced,  he  reined  up  the  foaming  steeds,  and  handing 
the  lines  to  me  while  he  brushed  some  of  the  dirt  from  his 
clothing,  he  characteristically  remarked :  "Say,  Colonel, 
1  like  a  horse  too  darn  well  to  be  a  preacher!" 

In  reminiscent  mood,  some  years  after  his  removal 
to  Denver,  Parson  Uzzell  gave  a  reporter  some  exceed- 
ingly interesting  experiences  while  in  Leadville. 

"It  was  strange  that  I  didn't  get  hurt  in  that  town. 
I  used  to  go  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  answering 
death-bed  calls  and  visiting  the  sick,  but  never  a  word 
was  ever  said  against  me  or  my  work.  One  funny  ex- 
perience was  at  a  funeral.  Cole  and  Alexander  ran  the 
worst  dance  hall  there — a  perfect  den  of  vice.  From  five 
hundred  to  fifteen  hundred  men  would  gather  in  the  big 
building  every  night,  drink,  carouse,  shoot  lights  out  and 
dance  with  the  tough  women.  Jim  Cole  is  now  a  respect- 
able ranchman,  not  far  from  Denver,  and  always  a  big- 
hearted  fellow.  He  often  told  me  he  would  come  to  my 
Sunday  school,  only  every  fellow  in  town  would  make 
fun  of  him.  Alexander  died  there — was  shot  by  some 
one,  of  course — and  Jim  wanted  me  to  preach  a  funeral 
sermon  over  him.  Well,  I  did,  and  those  fellows  got  the 
truth  right  from  the  shoulder.  Every  gambler,  saloon 
man  and  bad  woman  in  town  turned  out,  as  they  always 
did  upon  such  occasions,  and  I  told  them  about  the  sepa- 
ration of  sheep  from  the  goats  on  that  last  day  of  all. 
Many  of  them  winced,  but  there  was  no  trouble.  The 
cemetery  was  four  or  five  miles  out,  and  there  was  snow 
on  the  ground.  You  never  saw  such  a  cortege  as  that. 
Wagons,  buckboards,  sleighs,  burros,  bronchos,  every- 
thing went.  I  rode  out  with  a  man,  and  after  the  service 
at  the  grave  the  people  passed  by  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 

[298] 


face  of  their  dead  friend.  When  Jim  came  by,  he  said: 
'Well,  Parson,  you  gave  us  hell,  but  I  guess  we  all  de- 
served it.  Here's  a  fifty  dollar  note/ 

"The  man  who  brought  me  out  forgot  me  and  went 
back  alone,  and  before  I  realized  it,  every  vehicle  there 
other  than  an  express  wagon  had  gone.  Three  boards 
had  been  placed  across  the  wagon-body  for  seats,  and 
six  notorious  women  occupied  them.  Discovering  my 
predicament,  they  called  to  me,  and  said  it  was  a  shame 
to  bring  a  parson  out  there  and  leave  him  to  walk  home 
in  the  snow,  and  invited  me  to  ride  with  them.  I  wasn't 
married  then,  and  the  thought  flashed  through  my  mind, 
'what  will  the  good  Leadville  people  say  when  they  see 
their  parson  riding  with  such  women?'  But  it  was  either 
that  or  walk,  and  I  didn't  walk.  The  women  made  me 
sit  between  two  of  them  on  the  middle  seat,  and  so  I  was 
surrounded  by  them.  When  we  reached  the  edge  of  the 
town  I  told  them  I  had  some  business  to  attend  to,  and 
would  get  out  and  walk  the  rest  of  the  way.  I  think  they 
must  have  suspected  my  scheme,  for  they  insisted  upon 
carrying  me  to  the  very  door  of  the  parsonage,  right 
through  the  two  busiest  streets  of  the  town.  Well,  that 
ride  made  a  big  sensation ;  the  people  never  ceased  twit- 
ting me  about  it,  and  the  newspapers  made  the  most  of  it. 

"Some  of  the  marriages  I  performed  were  odd,  too. 
There  lived  there  a  Madame  Lapue,  who  got  rich  telling 
fortunes.  She  was  the  most  horribly  deformed  creature 
I  ever  saw.  Her  mouth,  back,  chin,  teeth,  arms — in  fact 
her  whole  hump-backed  body — was  twisted  out  of  shape; 
but  her  big  roll  of  money  finally  induced  a  gambler  by 
the  name  of  Smith  to  marry  her.  They  came  to  me  to  tie 
the  knot.  I  have  married  scores  of  those  people  four  or 
five  times.  No  license  was  required  then,  and  we  preach- 
ers couldn't  remember  the  faces  of  all  that  motley  crowd. 
A  man  would  live  with  a  woman  a  year  or  so,  see  some 
one  he  liked  better,  and  come  to  me  to  be  married 
again.  Of  course,  he  would  change  his  name  and  I 
wouldn't  remember  having  married  him  before.  Well, 
Smith  and  the  fortune-teller  stood  up,  and  I  commenced 
the  form  of  the  Methodist  marriage  service.  I  had  got 
through  with  the  man,  and  he  had  answered  all  of  the 

[299] 


questions  satisfactorily,  so  I  went  on  with  the  service  to 
the  woman. 

"  'Wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  be  thy  lawful,  wedded 
husband,  to  live  with  together,  under  God's  ordinance, 
in  the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  and  wilt  thou  love,  honor 
and  keep — ' 

"Here  I  was  obliged  to  pause,  owing  to  a  bad  fit  of 

coughing,  and  the  woman  said :  Til  just  be  d d  if  I'll 

keep  any  man!'  and  started  to  leave.  I  tried  to  explain 
to  her  that  I  had  not  finished,  and  that  the  rest  of  the 
sentence  would  show  what  was  required,  and  that  she 
would  not  be  compelled  to  support  her  husband.  So,  we 
began  again,  but  when  I  got  to  the  word  'keep/  again  I 
got  nervous,  and  again  coughed.  This  time  the  would- 
be-bride  became  furious. 

'You  think  you  are  smart,  Parson,  don't  you?'  she 
shrieked.  'Well,  I'll  tell  you  that  you  lost  a  fifty  dollar 
note  I  had  in  my  stocking  by  your  smartness;'  and  she 
grabbed  Smith  and  left. 

"Paddock,  of  the  Congregational  Church,  finally 
married  them,  and  I  always  thought  he  should  have  di- 
vided that  fee  with  me,  for  I'd  half  married  them  in  the 
first  place. 

"When  Bishop  Warren  and  Bishop  McCabe  were  on 
a  visit  to  me,  I  got  a  call,  about  dark  one  night,  to  go  to 
a  tough  place  and  marry  a  couple.  I  asked  my  visitors 
if  they  would  not  like  to  accompany  me.  Both  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  as  we  were  leaving  the  house,  mother 
called  to  me, 

"  'Tom,  you've  forgotten  your  pistol!' 

"Bishop  Warren  threw  up  his  hands  in  holy  terror. 
He  didn't  want  to  remain  longer  in  a  place  where  a 
preacher  had  to  carry  a  gun. 

"Yes,  it  was  a  hard  life,  but  I  enjoyed  it,  and  believe 
I  did  some  good  there.  Many  of  the  bad  women,  and 
worse  men,  were  converted  in  my  meetings,  and  are  re- 
spectable folks  now. 

"Here  was  a  break  in  the  narrative,  with  an  'Hello, 
Tom !  Just  the  man  I  wanted  to  see!'  " 


[3001 


And  the  man  who  wanted  to  see  the  Parson,  a  re- 
spected citizen  of  Denver,  had  been  converted  by  him 
at  the  latter's  River  Mission. 

Such  was  the  life,  such  the  simplicity,  such  the  love 
and  faith  of  Tom  Uzzell.  Rich  men  gave  freely  to  help 
his  good  work,  and  poor  men  sought  his  counsel.  He 
long  since  passed  over  the  range,  leaving  a  wife  and  five 
children  and  a  mother  to  grieve  over  his  untimely  call 
from  a  world  so  much  better  for  his  having  lived  in  it. 

Other  good  preachers  there  were  in  Leadville,  each 
working  with  the  talents  given  him  for  the  betterment 
of  his  fellow  man  and  the  community's  uplift,  but  there 
was  only  one  Tom  Uzzell — Rest  his  soul! 

How  reluctantly  I  now  am  impelled  to  record  a  series 
of  incidents  connected  with  the  life,  and  possible  death, 
of  another  Leadville  minister,  whose  name,  for  obvious 
reasons  must  be  withheld,  may  not  easily  be  inferred. 
That  he  was  the  unfortunate  victim  of  a  horrible  plot 
to  remove  him  from  life's  activities,  and  send  him  into 
the  great  unknown  before  his  time,  I  have  always  firmly 
believed;  but  because  of  my  inability  to  sustain  my  con- 
viction of  foul  play,  my  lips  must  forever  remain  sealed. 

The  news  value  of  the  facts  that  came  to  me  inci- 
dentally, unsought  in  the  first  instance,  and  subsequently 
traversed  in  the  hope  that  they  would  be  disproved,  will 
be  recognized  by  the  reader.  The  slightest  hint  in  my 
newspapers  of  what  was  transpiring  before  my  eyes 
would  have  produced  a  profound  sensation,  and  yet  I 
dared  not  breathe  a  word  of  it  until  the  conclusive  proofs 
were  in  my  possession. 

And  when,  at  the  end  of  a  long  vigil,  and  the  employ- 
ment of  the  keenest  detective  talent  of  which  I  was  en- 
dowed, I  was  rewarded  with  sufficient  evidence  to  war- 
rant a  full  expose,  the  whole  scene  was  shifted,  the  char- 
acters removed,  and  my  activities  brought  to  an  end. 

[301] 


A  drop  of  rain,  on  the  night  preceding  the  battle  of 
Waterloo,  is  believed  to  have  changed  the  map  of  Eu- 
rope. To  an  incident  quite  as  insignificant  is  traceable 
my  connection  with  this  mysterious  affair.  A  gust  of 
wind  had  blown  a  bit  of  paper  along  the  street  and  before 
my  eyes — a  receipt  of  an  insurance  company,  for  the 
semi-annual  premium  on  a  $30,000  policy  written  upon 
the  life  of  the  minister  in  question.  The  amount  struck 
me  as  rather  excessive  for  a  poor  minister  to  carry,  the 
premium,  on  account  of  his  age,  representing  a  sum  out 
of  all  proportion  to  the  known  salary  of  the  insured.  The 
minister's  wife  was  found  to  be  named  in  the  policy  as 
the  beneficiary.  But  the  receipt  was  in  the  name  of  a 
third  person,  in  no  way  related  to  the  dominie  or  his  wife, 
and,  stranger  still,  a  person  even  less  able  to  maintain 
payments  so  large — a  struggling  young  briefless  lawyer, 
eking  out  an  existence  upon  a  limited  practice. 

The  facts  disclosed  by  the  bit  of  paper  at  once  ap- 
pealed to  my  news  instinct;  they  gave  to  me  a  distinct 
shock.  It  was  too  delicate  a  matter  to  be  intrusted  to 
the  average  reporter  for  investigation,  and  I  resolved 
to  handle  it  myself.  The  very  first  development  en- 
hanced the  mystery  and  increased  my  suspicions.  The 
minister,  adroitly  approached  by  an  emissary  in  my  em- 
ploy, frankly  admitted  having  been  examined  for  an  in- 
surance risk,  at  the  instance  of  his  wife,  who,  from  pri- 
vate means,  had  undertaken  to  keep  up  the  payments 
upon  a  three  thousand  dollar  policy.  But  the  policy 
actually  written  ^nd  being  carried  by  the  insurance  com- 
pany was  for  ten  times  that  sum. 

A  hasty  conference  with  the  local  agent  of  the  com- 
pany disclosed  the  fact  that  the  original  application  was 
for  a  three  thousand  dollar  policy,  raised  to  thirty  thou- 
sand before  being  written,  accepted  by  the  company, 
and  three  semi-annual  premium  payments  promtly  made. 

[302] 


My  next  move  was  to  discover  a  motive.  The  habits 
of  the  minister's  wife  were  easily  discovered.  For  a 
year  or  more  she  had  not  been  attending  the  Sunday 
evening  service.  The  parsonage  was  near  the  church. 
Not  far  distant  was  a  saloon,  open  as  well  on  Sunday  as 
other  evenings  of  the  week. 

Posting  myself  in  the  neighborhood,  on  the  first  Sun- 
day evening  after  deciding  upon  a  Sherlock  Holmes  act, 
I  saw  a  party  enter  the  bar,  supply  himself  with  two  bot- 
tles of  beer,  emerge  from  a  side  door,  walk  leisurely 
away  and  enter  the  parsonage,  just  as  the  organ  began 
to  peal  out  the  offeratory.  His  withdrawal  was  nicely 
timed  to  clear  the  locality  before  the  congregation  was 
dismissed.  I  easily  identified  him  as  the  young  lawyer 
whose  name  appeared  upon  the  premium  receipt.  Each 
succeeding  Sunday  evening  the  performance  was  dupli- 
cated. 

Needing  no  additional  circumstance  to  convince  my- 
self that  a  motive  had  been  discovered,  I  communicated 
all  of  the  facts  to  the  head  office  of  the  insurance  com- 
pany. A  special  detective  was  at  once  sent  out  to  work 
with  me.  This  party  did  not  shrink  from  the  task  of 
forcing  an  entrance  to  the  sleeping  quarters  of  the  sus- 
pected lawyer  to  secure  additional  incriminating  testi- 
mony from  his  private  letter  files.  At  the  same  time 
close  watch  was  kept  upon  the  conspirators. 

The  minister's  health  began  to  fail.  Although  able 
to  perform  his  customary  duties  in  the  parish,  the  grad- 
ual weakening  of  his  physical  and  mental  faculties  was 
noticeable,  and  became  subject  matter  for  regretful  dis- 
cussion among  the  members  of  his  congregation.  The 
progress  of  his  disease,  whatever  it  might  be,  was  slow, 
nor  was  his  physician  quite  able  satisfactorily  to  diag- 
nose his  case,  although  I  had  no  difficulty  in  defining  it. 
I  was  placed  in  a  very  difficult  and  delicate  position,  since 

[303] 


it  was  expected  I  would  continue  to  work  in  harmony 
with  the  insurance  company,  and  its  representative  could 
do  nothing  but  patiently  await  developments.  Finally, 
the  minister  was  compelled  to  close  his  labors,  resign  his 
pastorate,  and  remove  to  California,  it  having  been  con- 
cluded that  a  change  of  climate  was  essential.  At  this 
juncture  the  matter  was  turned  over  to  the  Pacific  Coast 
manager  of  the  company,  my  labors  necessarily  ending 
there.  The  unfortunate  preacher  went  to  a  Southern 
California  town,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  and  soon  were 
followed  by  the  young  attorney,  but  neither  preacher  or 
lawyer  long  survived  their  change  of  residence.  The 
wife,  as  far  as  I  am  advised,  survives  to  this  day.  Let  us 
hope  her  conscience  is  not  troubled  with  any  of  those 
visions  that  terrorized  Lady  Macbeth. 


[304] 


i:i>\\.\ui»    R.    HOLI>KN 

BuHde,    of    the    HOld«ll    Smelter. 

Distinguished    Leadville    Mining 

HILL  FRANK     MII.KI.KV 

Pionee      Minig    AuThority    of  An,,ru-an     A^M-ian     •>•     Mining 


CHAPTER  LX. 

SUMMIT  TO  THE  SEA — EFFORTS  FAR  AFIELD — How  A 
DEEP  WATER  PORT  WAS  SECURED 

I  sometimes  blush  with  pure  pleasure  over  an 
achievement  in  which  I  had  no  direct  or  personal  selfish 
interest,  where  the  benefiiary  is  alone  and  obviously  the 
public,  for  it  is  in  those  things  I  always  have  found  my 
chief  pleasure  in  life;  and  then  I  blush,  with  something 
akin  to  shame,  when  I  find  myself  telling  of  it — boasting, 
if  you  please — when  it  is  palpably  the  part  of  modesty  to 
wait  for  some  one  else  to  tell  it,  or  for  the  triumph  to 
become  so  conspicuous  as  to  be  a  vindication  in  itself. 
What  I  have  determined  to  set  down  here  happened  a 
long  time  ago — way  back  in  the  '80s.  It  was  a  little 
thing  in  itself,  and  yet  a  seed  from  which  mighty  things 
have  grown.  It  was  a  thing  any  other  person  might  have 
done,  only  no  one  did  it. 

The  producers  of  all  that  vast  empire  lying  between 
the  Mississippi  River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  had, 
from  time  immemorial,  paid  freight  on  their  products 
to  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  when  there  was  an  outlet  to 
tidewater  on  the  gulf  coast,  scarce  half  the  distance. 
Only  there  was  not  a  single  natural  harbor  on  the  whole 
of  that  coast.  The  building  of  an  artificial  harbor  was 
too  big  an  undertaking  for  private  capital,  although  some 
thoughtful  persons  felt  that  if  the  government  were  to 
build  one  such  harbor,  private  capital  could  be  depended 
upon  to  duplicate  the  achievement  elsewhere.  The  im- 
portance of  the  proposed  undertaking  was  plain  enough 
to  everybody  who  gave  it  a  moment's  thought,  but  to 

[305] 


induce  Congress  to  make  the  necessary  appropriation 
was  quite  another  thing,  only  understood  by  those  ex- 
perienced in  lobbying.  It  was  widely  discussed  by  the 
press,  and  the  movement  finally  assumed  concrete  shape 
in  the  form  of  a  "deep  water  convention"  at  Denver, 
composed  of  delegates  from  all  of  the  States  west  of  the 
Mississippi,  named  by  governors,  legislatures,  chambers 
of  commerce  and  other  commercial  bodies.  It  proved  to 
be  a  monster  affair,  so  numerously  attended  as  to  be  un- 
wieldy, and  likely  to  be  ineffective  for  that  very  reason. 
There  were  at  least  twenty-five  hundred  delegates  pres- 
ent, and  it  taxed  the  resources  of  Denver  to  house  it — in 
fact,  it  was  held  in  a  tent.  It  was  an  initial  movement, 
and,  as  such,  little  was  expected  of  it  beyond  the  educa- 
ting of  the  people  by  speeches  and  the  usual  perfunctory 
resolutions. 

I  was  ambitious  that  it  should  achieve  more  than 
this,  for  otherwise  years  might  pass  before  anything 
practical  were  done.  Hence,  I  conceived  the  idea  of 
raising  a  permanent  committee  from  the  membership 
of  this  convention,  a  representative  body,  yet  not  so  large 
as  to  be  unwieldy,  to  work  out  the  problem,  and  I  deter- 
mined to  submit  my  plan  as  soon  as  a  permanent  organ- 
ization of  the  convention  should  be  effected. 

Profiting  from  my  observation  of  and  experience  in 
the  difficulties  of  focusing  the  attention  of  large  national 
conventions  upon  concrete  propositions,  likely  to  be  an- 
tagonized by  conflicting  interests,  real  or  fancied,  I  called 
upon  the  chairman,  Gov.  Thayer  of  Nebraska,  the  night 
before,  outlined  my  scheme,  enlisted  his  interest,  and 
secured  a  promise  of  co-operation,  to  the  extent  at  least 
of  recognizing  me  on  the  following  day,  when  I  should 
be  ready  to  launch  my  scheme  and  endeavor  to  force  it 
through. 

But  for  my  foresight  in  making  this  arrangement  in 

[3061 


advance,  I  might  easily  have  met  with  failure,  for  there 
were  present  in  the  body  representatives  from  a  number 
of  rival  points,  each  jealous  of  the  other,  some  so  selfish 
as  to  prefer  general  disaster  to  a  failure  of  their  pet 
schemes  for  the  advancement  of  particular  localities. 

My  resolution  provided  for  the  appointment,  by  the 
president  of  the  convention,  of  three  delegates  from  each 
State  west  of  the  Mississippi,  the  committee  thus  con- 
stituted to  permanently  organize,  select  a  central  head- 
quarters, and  immediately  begin  a  campaign  of  educa- 
tion to  inform  the  people  as  to  the  vast  importance  of 
the  undertaking,  and  thro*  their  influence  with  Senators 
and  Congressmen  to  secure  an  appropriation  sufficient 
to  build  a  deep  harbor  on  the  gulf  coast. 

I  was  careful  not  to  name  a  place,  or  even  to  hint 
where  the  money  should  be  spent.  I  worded  my  resolu- 
tion to  read  "where  a  deep  harbor  can  be  built  for  the 
least  money  and  in  the  shortest  time,"  the  selection  of 
place  to  be  left  to  the  engineers  of  the  war  department. 
Had  I  named  Sabine  Pass,  Aransas  Pass,  Galveston,  or 
the  mouth  of  the  Brazos,  the  whole  blooming  thing  might 
have  ended  there.  I  avoided  a  conflict  by  referring  that 
subject  to  people  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  and  leaving 
the  conflicting  interests  to  fight  it  out  among  themselves 
in  the  distant  future.  The  main  thing  was  to  get  the 
money  quick,  and  to  get  the  dredgers  in  operation. 

And  the  plan  worked  out  beautifully,  my  resolution 
going  through  with  enthusiastic  unanimity,  and  without 
amendment.  Ex-Governor  Wm.  Evans  of  Colorado  was 
named  as  Chairman  of  the  permanent  committee;  Alva 
Adams,  Governor  of  Colorado,  and  myself,  were  named 
to  represent  the  Centennial  State. 

The  committee  got  to  work  immediately,  and  the 
next  Congress  but  one  gave  us  $6,300,000  with  which  to 
start  the  work.  What  followed  is  history. 

[307] 


Galveston  was  selected,  not  perhaps  because  of  its 
superior  merits,  but  rather  because  the  vested  interests 
there  were  too  great  to  be  overcome  by  rival  ports.  But, 
as  had  been  pointed  out,  the  speedy  procurement  of 
eighteen  feet  of  water  over  the  bar  at  low  tide  at  Gal- 
veston, at  government  expense,  spurred  private  capital 
to  duplicate  the  improvement  at  Aransas  Pass  and  the 
mouth  of  the  Brazos. 

And  all  of  the  results  predicted  have  been  more  than 
realized  since  the  completion  of  the  great  work.  A  com- 
parison of  imports  and  exports  at  the  gulf  ports,  before 
and  after  deep  water  was  procured,  will  tell  the  story. 
And  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  increase  in  shipping 
at  the  latter,  during  two  decades  following  the  comple- 
tion of  the  jetties  at  Galveston,  just  about  equalled  the 
decrease,  during  the  same  period,  at  the  North  Atlantic 
ports. 

Although  my  resolution  providing  a  permanent  com- 
mittee clearly  denned  how  the  port  selected  for  govern- 
ment favor  should  be  chosen,  the  people  of  Texas  were 
obsessed  with  the  idea  that  the  committee  was  to  dictate 
it,  and  as  a  consequence  there  was  great  rivalry  for  the 
favor  of  the  committee  on  the  part  of  the  people  whose 
interests  were  with  San  Antonio,  Galveston,  Sabine,  or 
Aransas  Pass.  When  there,  as  we  occasionally  had  to 
be  in  furtherance  of  the  work,  we  always  were  enter- 
tained, as  Southern  people  so  well  know  how  to  enter- 
tain. Upon  the  occasion  of  the  first  meeting  of  our  com- 
mitee,  at  Dallas,  the  President  of  the  San  Antonio  and 
Aransas  Pass  Railroad,  who  happened  to  be  in  New 
York  at  the  time,  sent  the  following  telegram  to  the 
head  of  the  legal  department  of  his  line : 


[308] 


To  General  Sam  Houston,  San  Antonio. 

Understand  deep  water  men  in  Texas.  Corral  'em. 
Buy  wine.  Give  'em  my  car.  Buy  wine.  Take  'em  to 
Rockport  and  give  'em  fish  dinner.  Buy  wine.  Take 
'em  to  Aransas  Pass.  Buy  wine.  Take  'em  to  San  An- 
tonio and  give  'em  carriage  drive.  Buy  wine.  Give 
'em  a  banquet.  Buy  wine.  Take  'em  to  military  post. 
Buy  wine. 

(Signed)     URIAH  LOTT, 

President. 
P.  S. — Buy  wine. 

The  directions  were  executed  with  due  fidelity,  and 
for  about  a  fortnight  our  committee  of  sixty  members 
drank  champagne  from  tin  cups.  Although  ostensibly 
a  deep  water  movement,  only  limited  quantities  of  the 
fluid  were  drunk. 


[309] 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

STRANGE  FACTS,  AT  ONCE  THRILLING,  PATHETIC, 
GROTESQUE  AND  HUMOROUS 

Neither  Monte  Carlo  nor  Carlsbad,  Saratoga  or  Hot 
Springs,  ever  developed  millionaires  and  paupers  with 
the  pace  set  by  Leadville  in  the  first  few  years  of  its 
existence.  Sign  posts  that  beckoned  some  men  to  af- 
fluence and  lives  of  ease  and  luxury  betrayed  others  into 
quagmires  of  poverty,  misery  and  death.  Some  men  dug 
fortunes  from  the  earth  in  a  week  or  a  day,  others  lost 
the  savings  of  a  life  time  in  an  hour.  The  man  who 
swept  the  wealth  of  Croesus  from  the  faro  table  on  a 
Monday  found  resting  place  in  the  Potter's  Field  on  a 

Tuesday. 

*  *  * 

I  have  seen  thirty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  ore 
hauled  past  my  office  in  an  ordinary  wagon  bed. 


August  Richie  and  Theo.  Hook,  two  itinerant  shoe- 
makers, walked  into  Leadville  from  Canon  City,  took  a 
"grubstake"  from  Grocer  Tabor,  and  within  a  few  weeks 
uncovered  a  vein  of  mineral  that  subsequently  yielded 
seventy-five  millions  in  precious  metal  values,  giving 
to  Tabor  his  first  start  toward  the  ten  million  mark,  and 
a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate! 


Charley  Boettcher  took  as  security  for  a  $20  cook 
stove  mining  shares  that  later  sold  for  $150,000. 

[310] 


The  Dillon  Brothers,  in  the  Little  Chief  mine,  dis- 
closed the  largest  contact  ever  discovered,  80  feet  in 
vertical  height,  the  one  later  filling  a  drunkard's  grave, 
the  other  eking  out  a  miserable  existence  in  a  cheap 
lodging  house  in  Los  Angeles. 


Jack  Morrissey's  Highland  Mary  enabled  its  onwer 
to  "do"  the  continent  in  regal  style,  to  squander  thou- 
sands in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  and  the  Palais  Royal,  and 
then  die  a  pauper  in  the  Denver  poor  house. 


The  boundless  fortune  of  the  Guggenheim  family 
had  its  beginning  in  a  supposedly  played-out  mine  in  Cal- 
ifornia Gulch. 

*  *  * 

A  few  sacks  of  flour  and  slabs  of  bacon,  a  poor  pros- 
pector's grubstake,  gave  to  George  B.  Robinson  a  mine 
capitalized  at  twenty  millions,  and  which  sold  for  twice 

that  amount. 

*  *  * 

A  single  lucky  strike  saved  Sam  Newhouse  from 
bankruptcy,  enrolled  him  in  the  "Prince  of  Wales  set" 
in  London,  enabled  him  to  become  the  largest  copper 
operator  in  the  world,  to  erect  the  Flat  Iron  Building 
in  New  York,  to  buy  a  mile  of  Salt  Lake  City's  most  val- 
uable frontage,  and  to  build  theater,  hotel  and  sky  scra- 
per office  buildings  there. 


Alva  Adams,  three  times  Governor  of  Colorado,  took 
a  king's  ransom  from  the  Blind  Tom  mine  in  a  year,  but 
left  him  the  same  modest  man  he  was  when  earning  $4.00 
a  day  with  his  team. 

[311] 


The  man  who  gave  me  my  first  meal  in  Leadville, 
and  only  charged  me  a  dollar  for  it,  became  the  mining 
partner  of  King  Leopold  of  Belgium,  entertained  official 
Washington  as  a  monarch  might  have  done,  and  died 
the  same  big-hearted  Tom  Walsh  he  was  in  Leadville  in 

78. 

*  *  * 

Stratton,  the  job  carpenter,  was  able  richly  to  endow 

a  home  for  the  fagged  out  remnants  of  humanity, 

*  *  * 

Nat  Creede,  poor  prospector,  lucky  discoverer,  left 
his  name  and  a  princely  estate  to  a  Los  Angeles  waif, 
and  died  by  his  own  hand  when  life  should  have  seemed 

most  desirable. 

*  *  * 

The  cost  of  San  Diego's  grand  caravansary,  the 
Grant  Hotel,  pride  of  the  Pacific  slope,  was  dug  from 

the  ribs  of  Carbonate  Hill. 

*  *  * 

Tom  Bowen  may  have  bought  a  seat  in  the  United 

States  Senate  from  the  proceeds  of  a  single  mine. 

*  *  * 

St.  Louis  took  in  dividends  from  Leadville  mines, 
year  after  year,  more  than  the  earnings  of  all  of  its 

banks,  insurance  and  trust  companies. 

*  *  * 

Uncle  Billy  Stevens  took  sufficient  wealth  from  Iron 
Hill  to  rank  him  the  richest  man  in  Michigan's  princely 

metropolis. 

*  *  * 

The  Little  Johnny  mine,  bought  for  a  few  thousand 
dollars,  made  of  John  Campion  a  multi-millionaire,  and 
raised  to  affluence  a  dozen  other  lucky  co-ownersj — A.  V. 
Hunter,  Geo.  W.  Trimble,  Charles  Cavender,  and  Wm. 
Byrd  Page. 

[312] 


TINGLEY   S.    WOOD  JAMES    J.    BROWN 

Owner  of  the  Lillian  and  Famous  as  a  Gold   Mine 

100    other    mines  Discoverer 

A.    A.    BLOW 
Famous  Mining  Engineer 

of  Two  Continents 

JOHN     CAMPION  EBEN    SMITH 

Principal   Owner   of   the  Mining  Partner  of  the  Late 

Little   Johnny    Mine  David    H.    Moffatt 


Leiter  avenue  and  Harrison  avenue,  Leadville,  will 
long  commemorate  the  rich  strikes  made  there,  in  the 
early  days,  by  Wm.  Leiter,  the  Chicago  dry  goods  prince, 
and  Edwin  Harrison,  the  smelter  king  of  St.  Louis. 

*  *  * 

Jack  McCombe  had  no  street  named  for  him,  but 
back  in  Killarney  his  memory  will  ever  be  kept  green, 
for  from  his  first  income  from  the  Maid  of  Erin  he  re- 
turned to  his  old  home,  bought  everything  in  sight  and 
gave  something  to  every  body. 

*  *  * 

I  attended  a  banquet,  given  at  the  opening  of  the 
Texas  House,  a  princely-appointed  gambling  hell,  at 
which  eighty  millions  of  capital  were  represented,  and 
the  guests  at  which  embraced  Senators,  Governors,  Gen- 
erals, Colonels,  and  even  a  member  of  British  royalty. 

*  *  * 

I  have  seen  a  man  wheeling  slag  in  the  Globe  smelter, 
at  $3  a  day,  who  once  was  worth  ten  millions,  and  sat  as 
a  member  of  the  greatest  deliberative  body  in  the  world. 

*.'*;..* 

I  have  walked  on  a  saloon  floor  tiled  with  double 

golden  eagles. 

*  *  * 

I  have  partaken  of  a  $7,500  breakfast  at  a  hotel  in 

Leadville. 

*  *  * 

I  possess  annual  passes  over  railroads,  the  material 
of  solid  silver,  and  costing  ten  dollars  each  to  make. 

*  *  * 

For  hauling  goods  from  Denver  to  Leadville  I  have 
paid  more  than  the  freight  rate  from  Liverpool  to  Port- 
land, around  the  horn. 

[313] 


I  have  seen  water  pipes  soldered  with  silver  bullion. 

*  *  * 

I  have  known  a  man  to  earn  the  cost  of  a  monster 
hotel,  and  its  complete  furnishings,  while  in  course  of 

erection,  speculating  in  lots  adjoining. 

*  *  * 

I  know  men  owning  a  hundred  mines  who  never  took 

a  dollar  out  of  any  of  them. 

*  *  * 

Although  there  are  forty  thousand  located  mines  in 
Leadville,  there  were  never  exceeding  a  hundred  in  pay 

at  the  same  time. 

*  *  * 

Dr.  M.  W.  Illes  owes  a  large  fortune  to  a  silk  hand- 
kerchief— put  smelter  smoke  through  it,  and  thus  acci- 
dentally discovered  a  method  for  saving  precious  metal 
values,  that  before  went  into  the  atmosphere.  He  sold 
his  discoverey  to  the  trust,  and  now  listens  to  what  the 

wild  waves  say  at  Ocean  Park,  California. 

*  *  * 

I  helped  Senator  Stewart  ascertain  that  every  dol- 
lar's worth  of  silver  mined  in  this  country  has  cost  one 

dollar  and  twenty-five  cents. 

*  #  * 

I  have  known  thousands  of  men  who  "went  broke" 
in  mining,  while  those  of  my  acquaintance  who  have 

profited  largely  I  could  name  in  two  minutes. 

*  *  * 

"Silver  is  found  in  veins,  gold  is  where  you  find  it" 
is  an  old  adage.  Search  for  the  two  metals  will  doubtless 
ever  constitute  the  most  alluring  quest  of  man.  Of  the 
few  who  win  the  fickle  goddess,  you  will  ever  hear — 
their  success  is  shouted  from  the  house-tops.  Of  the 
many  who  fail,  you  may  read  the  sorrowful  story  in 
wayside  graves  on  the  bleak  wind-swept  slopes. 

[314] 


Life  at  Leadville  was  not  altogether  a  constant  stren- 
uous struggle  for  wealth.  It  was  liberally  interlarded 
at  all  times  by  incidents  tragic,  ludicrous  and  pathetic,  as 
well  as  humorous.  Conspicuous  among  the  latter  was 
the  presentation  at  the  Tabor  Opera  House  of  a  drama, 

written  by  Mrs. ,  wife  of  a  local  practitioner 

at  the  bar,  entitled,  "The  Mormon  Wife,"  the  leading 
role  in  which  she  herself  essayed.  The  woman  really 
possessed  some  histrionic  talent,  scarcely  approaching 
genius,  but  was  not  accredited  with  even  mediocre  abil- 
ity, as  playwright  or  actress.  The  announcement  of  her 
ambition  was,  indeed,  received  with  a  broad  guffaw,  but 
this  did  not  prevent  the  house  from  being  filled  from  pit 
to  dome  with  a  miscellaneous  assembly,  bent  upon  an 
evening's  enjoyment,  regardless  of  the  attractions  of- 
fered by  the  program.  Had  the  price  of  admission  been 
doubled,  it  would  not  have  kept  the  multitude  away. 
Nor  was  the  purpose  or  spirit  animating  the  audience 
at  all  creditable,  being  palpably  to  cajole  and  ridicule. 
And,  what  added  immeasurably  to  the  gaiety  of  the 

occasion,  was  the  circumstance  that  Mrs.  took 

the  whole  affair  seriously,  not  for  one  moment  discern- 
ing the  satire,  cloaked  with  the  thinnest  gauze  of  interest 
and  enthusiasm.  Not  even  the  presence  in  the  prosce- 
nium boxes  of  cruel  jokers,  leveling  beer  bottles,  mounted 
as  opera  glasses,  at  her  antics  on  the  stage,  or  the  hoots 
and  yells  and  cat-calls  of  the  gallery,  had  the  effect  of 
distracting  her  from  the  serious  lines  of  her  role.  When 
she  sang,  the  boistrous  encore  was  responded  to  time  and 
again  and  until,  from  sheer  sympathy,  the  audience  was 
persuaded  to  desist.  Perhaps  the  most  inexcusable  af- 
front offered  the  lady  was  the  mock  criticism  that  ap- 
peared in  my  newspaper  the  following  morning.  In  this 
the  writer  compared  her,  or  rather  contrasted  her,  for 
he  declared  she  could  not  be  compared,  with  all  of  the 

[316] 


great  playwrights  of  history,  asserting  that  not  one  of 
them  was  capable  of  producing  such  a  play — a  very  pal- 
pable fact — and  with  all  of  the  great  actresses,  living 
and  dead,  with  equal  candor  declaring  that  their  com- 
bined genius  would  not  be  equal  to  the  exactions  of  the 

title  role,  so  faultlessly  portrayed  by  Mrs.  . 

Finally,  and  for  this  offense,  the  critic  should  have  been 
murdered  and  his  body  concealed,  he  said  that  "the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  star  was  only  equalled  by  the  satire  of 
the  audience."  It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  my  emo- 
tions upon  reading  that  brutal  criticism  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  had  long  entertained  the  highest  respect  for  Mrs. 
.  She  was  a  Southern  lady  of  culture  and  re- 
finement. Her  husband  was  a  lawyer  of  distinction,  and 
although  I  disagreed  with  him  at  every  angle  of  politics, 
I  had  asked  Gov.  Adams  to  appoint  him  to  a  vacant 
Judgeship,  solely  because  of  his  proved  fitness  and  recog- 
nized honesty.  Notwithstanding  this,  he  was  a  "fire- 
eating  Southerner,"  still  adhering  to  the  code  duello  as 
the  only  proper  resort  to  settle  differences  between  gen- 
tlemen, and  I  thought  perhaps  there  might  be  some  war- 
rant for  the  expressed  fear  of  my  office  friends  that  he 
would  deem  the  publication  sufficient  cause  for  calling 
me  out.  Indeed,  I  prepared  for  just  such  a  contingency, 
and  about  10  o'clock  an  outlook  reported  the  Judge  ap- 
proaching the  office.  I  arose  to  greet  him,  careful  that 
the  route  to  my  hip  pocket  was  unobstructed,  when  he 
grasped  my  hand  with  both  his  own  and  gave  it  as  cordial 
and  hearty  a  shake  as  it  ever  experienced,  at  the  same 
time  overwhelming  me  with  thanks  for  the  criticism, 
pronouncing  it  about  the  last  word  in  histrionic  diction. 
He  bought  every  extra  copy  of  the  paper  on  the  counter 
to  send  to  friends  elsewhere,  and  left  me  with  the  im- 
pression that  he  ever  should  regard  me  as  his  greatest 
benefactor ! 

[316] 


One  of  the  most  productive  mines  in  the  Ten  Mile 
District  was  "the  Scotty,"  named  for  a  prospector,  quite 
widely  known  for  his  shiftless  habits  and  ne'er-do-well 
record.  He  had  succumbed  to  a  sudden  attack  of  pneu- 
monia, in  the  one-room  cabin  of  a  friend,  away  up  on 
the  slopes  of  Sheep  Mountain,  on  a  wild  December  night. 
The  miner  and  his  family  were  worn  out  with  their 
sleepless  vigil,  nor  could  they  hope  for  rest  until  Scotty's 
body  should  be  removed.  A  couple  of  prospectors, 
friends  of  the  dead  man,  had  happened  in  at  nightfall, 
and  volunteered  to  dig  a  grave  in  the  clearing  at  once, 
it  having  been  decided  that  all  ceremony  would  have  to 
be  dispensed  with. 

The  night  wore  wearily  on;  the  snow  was  deep,  the 
frost  penetrated  many  feet  below  the  surface,  and  the 
little  band .  of  watchers  within  scarcely  expected  the 
grave  would  be  ready  before  midnight.  But  when  the 
clock  on  the  rude  mantel  ticked  off  3  A.  M.,  and  the  dig- 
gers had  not  reported  their  gruesome  task  complete, 
the  master  of  the  cabin  set  out  in  quest  of  them.  The 
flickering  light  of  a  lantern  on  a  dump  of  fresh  earth 
half  a  mile  distant  guided  him  to  the  spot,  but  his  amaze- 
ment may  be  inferred  when,  instead  of  finding  the  men 
at  work,  he  discovered  an  envelope  nailed  to  a  nearby 
tree,  bearing  this  strange  legend : 

Struck  it  rich  four  feet  below  grass  roots.  Gone  to 
town  to  record  location.  Will  name  claim  "The  Scotty" 
and  put  you  in  on  it.  Will  be  up  to  plant  our  old  pard 
in  the  morning.  pETE^ 

BILL.' 

*  *  * 

The  estimation  in  which  human  life  was  held  by  some 
is  well  illustrated  in  the  epigramatic  remark  of  August 
Richie,  the  German  shoemaker  who  was  one  of  the  dis- 

[317] 


coverers  of  the  Little  Pittsburg  mine,  after  shooting  a 
man  in  a  saloon  brawl.  Turning  to  the  bar  keeper,  he 
said :  "Well,  I  suppose  I  kill  de  fellow,  but  I  bays  for  the 

body." 

*  *  * 

Jack  Morrisey  discovered  immense  wealth  before  ac- 
quiring the  ability  to  tell  the  time  of  day;  yet  his  first 
great  outlay  was  a  diamond-studded  time-piece.  And 
that  he  might  not  disclose  his  ignorance,  when  asked  for 
the  time,  he  would  whip  out  the  elaborately  oranmented 
chronometer,  and  hand  it  to  the  inquirer  with  the  re- 
mark: "See  for  yourself!  Then  ye'll  know  I'm  not 

lyin'  to  yez." 

*  *  * 

It  is  related  of  Jack  that  he  once  shouted  down  a 
shaft:  "How  many  be  yez  down  there?"  The  answer 

being  three,  Jack  shouted :    "Half  of  yez  come  up." 

*  *  * 

Those  who  credit  that  yarn  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
believing  that  Jack  made  a  sight  draft  on  the  Treasurer 
of  the  United  States  for  the  price  of  a  plot  of  ground 
sold  to  the  government  for  a  fish  hatchery,  not  being 
satisfied  with  the  slow  method  of  auditing  claims  by 

the  representatives  of  Uncle  Sam. 

*  *  * 

But  Jack's  experience  in  handling  large  sums  of 
money  soon  sharpened  his  wits,  and  enabled  him  per- 
fectly to  safe-guard  his  wealth.  It  was  quite  natural 
that  frequent  appeals  should  be  made  to  him  for  loans  by 
former  boon  companions  of  the  pick-and-shovel  world. 
Upon  one  such  occasion  the  applicant  simply  wanted 
Jack's  endorsement  upon  a  note.  "I  don't  want  you  to 
give  me  the  money,  Mr.  Morrisey.  I  just  want  your 
name  on  this  bit  of  paper.  Mr.  Trimble,  the  banker, 
says  if  you  will  sign  the  note,  he'll  let  me  have  the 

[318] 


money/'  Jack  only  hesitated  a  moment  for  his  ready 
Irish  wit  to  come  to  his  relief — then :  "That's  all  right, 
Mike.  But  you  tell  Mr.  Trimble  to  put  his  name  on  the 

note,  and  I'll  let  ye  have  the  money." 

*  *  * 

Mike  Costello  was  another  character  famed  for  his 
quick  native  wit  and  cleverness  at  repartee.  Delegate 
to  a  Democratic  county  convention,  the  proceedings  of 
which  had  not  been  at  all  to  his  liking — all  of  his  friends 
having  been  defeated  in  their  ambition  for  representa- 
tion on  the  ticket  nominated — Mike  startled  the  body 
with: 

"Mr.  Chairman!    I  rise  to  a  pint  of  order." 

The  Chair — "The  gentleman  will  state  his  point  of 
order." 

Mr.  Costello — "I'll  bet  yez  tin  dollars  the  ticket  is 
downed." 

And  it  was. 

*  *  * 

Notwithstanding  there  was  a  Democratic  newspaper 
being  published  in  Leadville  at  the  time,  deserving  and 
entitled  to  the  party's  patronage,  Mike  always  saw  to  it 
that  the  committee's  needs  in  the  printing  line  were  sup- 
plied by  my  presses.  His  extraordinary  party  disloyalty 
being  called  in  question  by  the  committee,  of  which  he 
was  chairman,  Mike  made  an  elaborate  speech  in  his  own 
defense,  closing  with  this  eloquent  peroration,  character- 
istic of  Irish  loyalty  to  personal  friends :  "And,  gintle- 
men,  I  want  to  tell  yez,  that  whin  it's  Dimocracy  to  go 

back  on  Davis,  I'm  no  longer  a  Dimocrat." 

*  *  * 

Mike  Costello,  soon  after  his  entry  into  politics, 
landed  in  the  Legislature.  Irishmen,  in  Leadville  as  else- 
where, have  a  constitutional  proneness  for  law  making 
— they  have  been  able  to  make  and  administer  laws  for 

[319] 


every  country  but  their  own — and  there  distinguished 
himself,  not  alone  for  the  number  and  variety  of  bills 
introduced,  but  as  well  for  his  enthusiastic  and  eloquent 
advocacy  of  their  passage.  Mike's  pet  measure,  in  the 
assembly  of  '87,  had  for  its  object  the  regulation  of  the 
railways,  of  the  science  in  management  of  which  he  knew 
about  as  much  as  of  the  planets,  and  he  was  desirous 
that  as  many  as  possible  of  his  constituents  should  hear 
his  speech  in  advocacy  of  its  final  passage.  He  had  ex- 
hausted the  patience  of  railway  managers  in  his  frequent 
demand  for  passes,  and  upon  this  occasion  had  pre- 
sented to  Gen'l  Dodge,  General  Manager  of  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande,  a  list  of  thirty  people  whom  he  desired 
to  bring  down  to  the  capital.  Gen'l  Dodge  told  Mike  he 
had  exceeded  the  limit,  but  finally  consented  to  issue  ten 
passes,  on  condition  that  he  would  not  file  another  re- 
quest during  the  session.  Mike  took  his  medicine  philo- 
sophically, and  with  his  pencil  began  the  work  of  elimi- 
nation. When  he  had  reduced  the  list  to  ten,  he  handed 
it  to  Gen'l  Dodge,  with  the  laconic  suggestion:  "I've 
scratched  off  twinty  of  the  spalpeens,  Gineral — they've 
got  no  infloo-ence  annyway." 


An  early-day  character  of  the  camp,  known  far  and 
wide  for  his  geniality  and  good  heartedness,  albeit  a 
ne'er-do-well  with  never  so  much  as  the  price  of  a  meal 
ticket  in  his  pocket,  was  Bill  DeVere,  "Tramp  Poet  of 
the  West,"  who  ground  out  verse,  of  a  crude  yet  ever 
cheerful  description,  with  the  utmost  facility.  Thus, 
over  a  State  Street  bar,  did  he  immortalize  a  mining 
camp  tributary  to  Leadville,  named  "Ten  Mile,"  for  no 
better  reason,  that  I  ever  was  able  to  discover  than  that 
it  was  that  distance  from  nowhere. 


[320] 


The  shades  of  eve  were  falling  fast, 
As  up  through  Leadville  village  passed, 
A  "Mick,"  who  bore  through  mud  and  ice 
A  hickory  shirt,  with  this  device: 
"Ten  Mile  or  bust." 

His  hat  was  slouched,  he'd  one  cock  eye, 
That  piped  off  every  passer-by; 
The  boot-black  shouted,  "Have  a  shine?" 
The  Mick  replied,  "I'll  hunt  a  mine ! 
Ten  Mile  or  bust!" 

"Beware  the  pine  tree's  withered  branch, 
Beware  a  'dead  fall'  called  Chalk  Ranch," 
Was  Hoodoo  Brown's  last  good  night; 
The  Mick  replied  far  up  the  height, 
"Ten  Mile  or  bust." 

The  dance  hall  girl  said,  "Stay  and  try 
A  little  glass  of  dance-hall  rye; 
I'll  be  your  darling,  dear  gazelle," 

The  Mick  replied,  "Oh,  go  to well, 

Ten  Mile  or  bust." 

Next  morning,  as  the  Ten  Mile  stage 
Was  going  up  the  narrow  gauge, 
A  hickory  shirt  hung  on  a  rail, 
With  these  words  printed  on  the  tail, 
"Ten  Mile  or  bust." 


Whatever  the  game,  if  it  be  governed  by  well-defined 
rules,  the  professional  gambler  plays  it  without  demur, 
knowing  that  the  percentage  is  always  in  favor  of  the 
house.  It  is  related  that  a  stranger  in  the  camp  stood 
in  on  a  game  of  poker  at  the  Texas  House  until,  his  re- 
sources almost  exhausted,  he  drew  a  "royal  flush,"  bet 
what  he  had  remaining,  called  his  partner,  and  was  in 
the  act  of  raking  in  the  generous  jack-pot  before  him, 
when  he  was  stopped. 

[321] 


"But,  I've  got  a  royal  flush,"  he  said,  throwing  his 
cards  face  up  on  the  table. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  partner,  "but  you  don't  seem  to  be 
familiar  with  the  rules  of  the  house,"  and  with  this  he 
pointed  to  a  placard  on  the  wall  back  of  him,  bearing 
the  legend:  "A  'lulu'  beats  a  royal  flush." 

With  the  explanation  of  what  constituted  a  "lulu"  at 
the  Texas  House,  the  game  proceeded,  until  finally  the 
stranger  drew  a  "lulu,"  and  again  was  in  the  act  of 
raking  in  the  coin,  when,  for  a  second  time,  he  was 
stopped. 

"But  I've  got  a  lulu,"  he  protested,  honestly  disclos- 
ing his  hand. 

"Yes,  you've  got  a  lulu  all  right,"  responded  his  part- 
ner, "but  do  you  see  that  rule?" 

With  this  he  again  pointed  to  the  same  sign  at  his 
back,  reversed  in  the  meantime,  and  made  to  read :  "A 
'lulu'  can  be  played  but  once  the  same  evening  at  this 
house." 


For  ten  years,  perhaps,  General  Geo.  W.  Cook  was 
joint  agent  of  the  Denver,  South  Park  and  Pacific  Rail- 
road, and  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railway,  as  well 
as  Division  Superintendent  of  the  latter.  He  also  at  one 
time  was  Mayor  of  the  city  and  commander  of  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic.  In  the  latter  capacity,  in  1888, 
he  was  leading  the  post  in  its  parade  to  the  cemetery,  on 
Decoration  Day,  when  a  special  train — having  for  pas- 
senger the  late  Walter  Cheeseman,  Vice  President  of 
the  Rio  Grande,  and  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  the 
State — approached  the  station  and  was  flagged  by  Gen'l 
Cook  and  held  until  the  procession  had  passed  on  its  way 
to  the  burying  ground. 

On  his  return  to  the  station,  Gen'l  Cook  was  up- 

[322] 


braided  for  his  high-handed  act  in  flagging  the  Vice 
President's  car. 

He  responded  by  dealing  Mr.  Cheeseman  an  upper 
cut,  which  sent  him  sprawling  on  the  floor,  a  very  un- 
dignified position  for  a  man  of  his  character  and  stand- 
ing. 

Instantly  realizing  what  this  meant  to  him,  Gen'l 
Cook  at  once  wired  his  resignation  to  the  President  of 
the  road  and  began  cleaning  up  his  desk,  preparatory  to 
terminating  his  long  connection  with  the  road. 

But  his  resignation  was  not  accepted.  Mr.  Cheese- 
man had  the  good  sense  to  recognize  the  correctness  of 
Gen'l  Cook's  attitude,  albeit  he  was  quite  disposed  to 
close  the  incident  then  and  there,  and  retain  the  services 

of  a  man  of  Cook's  capabilities. 

*  *  * 

Theater-goers  of  the  early  '80s  period  will  remember 
Effie  Ellsler,  who  wept  such  genuine  tears  in  portraying 
the  pathetic  character  of  "Hazel  Kirke"  that  her  doctor 
was  compelled  to  order  a  cancellation  of  her  contract  at 
the  very  height  of  her  triumph.  This  truly  genuine 
woman  and  true  artiste  was  a  great  favorite  in  Leadville, 
a  popularity  she  generously  shared  with  her  husband, 
Frank  Weston.  Her  one  great  trial  was  Couldock,  prob- 
ably the  greatest  impersonator  of  old  men  characters 
this  country  has  ever  produced,  and  who  was  esteemed 
absolutely  essential  to  the  proper  presentation  of  Duns- 
stan  Kirke,  the  blind  miller  of  the  great  drama,  accord- 
ing to  the  Ellsler  standard.  The  old  man  was  so 
strangely  erratic  that  Effie  was  never  certain  of  him  un- 
til he  stalked  upon  the  stage.  Naturally,  she  and  her 
husband  humored  the  old  man  in  a  hundred  ways,  to  keep 
him  in  readiness  to  respond  to  the  prompter's  call.  At 
Leadville  she  ordered  a  special  dinner  in  his  honor  at  the 
hotel,  the  proprietor  fairly  outdoing  himself  as  caterer. 

[323] 


Among  other  things  she  especially  ordered  by  express, 
from  one  of  the  lake  cities,  a  fish  of  which  Couldock  was 
known  to  be  especially  fond. 

Instead  of  being  served  whole,  the  piece  de  resistance 
of  the  repast,  it  came  on  the  table  cut  transwise  in  coarse, 
uninviting  slabs  or  chunks. 

One  sight  of  the  dish  was  enough  for  Couldock.  His 
ire  excited  to  the  highest  pitch,  all  consideration  for  the 
fact  that  his  hostess  was  a  lady  for  the  moment  forgot- 
ten, and  that  the  dining  room  was  crowded  with  guests, 
he  placed  one  of  his  great  feet  under  the  table,  lifted  it 
clear  off  the  floor,  and  threw  it  over  on  its  side,  china 
and  silver  and  crystal  scattering  in  every  direction.  Then, 
without  a  word  to  host  or  hostess,  he  arose  and  stalked 
out  of  the  dining  room,  the  incarnation  of  outraged  dig- 
nity. 

*  *  * 

For  a  year  after  the  railroads  entered  Leadville  the 
Western  classification  failed  to  discriminate  between  pa- 
per in  car  loads  and  less  than  car  loads.  I  submitted  to 
the  injustice  until  patience  ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  and 
then  advertised  for  teams  to  bring  paper  up  from  Den- 
ver. 

In  the  early  morning  hour  a  gentleman  called  to  learn 
what  there  might  be  in  it.  He  didn't  look  like  a  teamster, 
but  I  assumed  he  might  be  a  contractor,  and  I  showed 
him  how,  by  bringing  my  paper  up,  and  taking  a  load  of 
passengers  down,  he  might  make  all  kinds  of  money. 

After  I  had  finished  he  coolly  handed  me  his  card, 
disclosing  his  identity  as  W.  B.  Kimball,  Traffic  Man- 
ager of  the  Union  Pacific  System! 

He  had  only  arrived  in  the  city  that  morning,  had 
seen  my  advertisement,  and  not  fancying  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing his  railroad  paralleled  by  a  bull  team,  he  had  called 
upon  me  for  particulars.  Upon  his  assurance  that  I 

[324] 


should  have  a  satisfactory  rate  for  paper  in  car  loads, 
I  discontinued  the  advertisement,  although  it  proved  the 

most  profitable  announcement  I  ever  had  made. 
*  *  * 

In  the  formative  period  of  Leadville  hundreds  of 
companies  were  organized  daily  and  incorporated. 
Hence  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  struggling 
young  lawyer  should  organize  a  toll  road  company  and 
order  a  stock  book  printed.  The  wonder  came  when  the 
proposed  enterprise  dropped  out  of  sight,  along  with  its 
projector — George  Crittenden,  a  scion  of  the  famous 
Kentucky  family  of  that  name.  With  the  stock  book 
in  his  suit  case,  Crittenden  paid  a  visit  to  his  old  home 
in  the  Blue  Grass  State,  and  while  there  told  his  friends 
of  the  great  promise  of  his  enterprise.  To  a  number  of 
personal  friends  he  gave  a  few  shares  of  stock — only  a 
few,  for  the  reason  that  nearly  the  entire  capital  stock 
had  already  been  subscribed.  In  imposing  the  strictest 
confidence  in  the  matter,  Crittenden  displayed  his 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  He  confidently  counted 
upon  a  violation  of  the  confidence  in  every  instance,  in 
furtherance  of  his  ultimate  design.  Returning  to  Lead- 
ville he  mailed  dividend  checks  to  the  few  holders  of  the 
stock  in  Kentucky,  30%  upon  the  capital  stock.  A  few 
months  later  he  returned  to  his  old  home,  and  was  not 
surprised  to  learn  that  everybody  in  town  had  heard 
about  the  marvelous  success  of  his  toll  road  enterprise. 
Naturally  all  wanted  an  opportunity  to  invest.  And  Crit- 
tenden had  the  means  of  satisfying  them.  But  he  did  it 
in  the  most  adroit  manner  conceivable,  telling  each  that 
he  was  the  only  one  favored,  and  again  imposing  the 
strictest  confidence.  Before  returning  to  Leadville  he 
had  disposed  of  every  share  of  stock,  provoked  that  he 
had  not  provided  himself  with  another  stock  book. 
Months  passed  without  receipt  of  any  more  dividends. 
Townspeople  began  to  compare  notes,  and  it  was  dis- 
covered that  very  few  people  were  without  representa- 
tion in  the  toll  road.  Letters  to  Crittenden  were  un- 
answered, and  finally  a  representative  was  sent  to  Col- 
orado to  look  into  the  matter.  This  party  soon  discov- 

[3251 


ered  that  the  toll  road  was  a  myth.  Crittenden  was  run 
down  and  asked  why  he  hadn't  built  the  road.  "Build 
the  road  ?  Why  should  I  build  it  ?  I've  got  no  interest 
in  it.  Your  people  have  got  all  the  stock.  Let  them 

build  it!" 

#  *  * 

Individual  mention  of  all  the  rugged,  sterling  char- 
acters who  conspicuously  contributed  to  the  development 
of  the  mining  and  smelting  industries  of  Leadville — the 
men  who  blazed  the  way,  giving  of  their  intelligence, 
their  experience,  their  learning  and  their  wealth,  to  the 
creation  of  the  greatest  mining  camp  the  world  has  ever 
known — would  more  than  fill  a  volume  of  this  size.  I 
find  I  must  content  myself  with  the  briefest  mention  of 
a  comparatively  few  such,  without  purposeful  dispar- 
agement of  thousands  of  others  whose  contributions 
were  as  necessary  in  the  material  and  human  uplift. 

#  #  # 

During  the  first  few  years  of  the  history  of  Leadville, 
when  fortunes  were  acquired  in  a  night,  when  unmeas- 
ured wealth  was  actually  within  reach  of  the  poorest  and 
the  humblest,  when  the  masses  were  engaged  in  almost 
sleepless  quest  for  the  golden  fleece,  Col.  Roswell  E. 
Goodell,  ignoring  all  of  the  allurements  of  the  hour  and 
all  of  the  temptations  that  beckoned,  devoted  the  whole 
of  his  time  to  the  inauguration  of  purely  unselfish  enter- 
prises contributing  to  the  public  welfare  at  the  time  and 
promising  community  benefits  in  the  future.  Conspic- 
uous among  his  works  of  this  nature,  none  of  which 
promised  adequate  returns  for  the  labor  and  capital  em- 
ployed, was  the  development  and  improvement  of  Soda 
Springs,  the  building  of  a  broad  boulevard  to  that  beau- 
tiful and  restful  resort,  and  the  organization  of  a  racing 
association  and  providing  all  the  accessories  for  health- 
ful, uplifting  outdoor  sports  and  athletic  events.  Col. 
Goodell  enjoyed  many  distinctions  during  a  long  and 
eventful  life.  He  was  the  Secretary  of  the  Democratic 
National  Convention  that  met  in  Charleston  in  1860,  the 
historical  importance  of  which  is  well  remembered.  He 
was  the  first  City  Marshal  of  Chicago,  built  the  Chicago 

[826] 


and  Alton  Railway,  and  became  its  first  General  Man- 
ager. In  that  capacity  he  issued  a  "General  Order,"  to 
the  effect  that  on  and  after  that  date  no  one  would  be 
permitted  to  travel  on  the  road  unless  possessing  a  ticket 
or  a  pass,  it  having  previously  been  the  custom  for  a  man 
to  board  a  train  at  any  point,  stating  to  the  conductor 
that  he  "worked  for  the  company,"  and  be  allowed  to 
ride  without  other  credentials.  I  fancy  that  order  sig- 
nalled the  introduction  of  the  railway  pass  system  in  the 
United  States.  When  other  railway  managers  were  in- 
disposed to  give  the  slightest  encouragement  to  George 
M.  Pullman's  wonderful  invention,  Col.  Goodell  ordered 
built  the  first  sleeping  car  for  the  Alton  Line,  other 
roads  speedily  imitating  his  wise  act.  In  consideration 
of  this  fact  Mr.  Pullman  issued  a  pass  to  Col.  Goodell — 
doubtless  the  only  one  of  its  kind  ever  issued— for  him- 
self and  family,  during  life,  over  the  Pullman  system 
throughout  the  world,  and  making  provision  for  the 
protection  of  the  unique  document  when  the  Pullman 
Company  was  incorporated. 

*  *  * 

Major  Jerome  B.  Wheeler  not  only  made  the  first 
contribution  to  the  capital  stock  of  the  Colorado  Midland 
Railway,  but,  through  his  financial  connections  in  the 
East,  induced  the  investment  of  $18,000,000  in  that  en- 
terprise; he  was  among  the  first  to  recognize  the  impor- 
tance of  the  vast  wealth  of  Western  Colorado  in  coal 
deposits  and  was  a  pioneer  in  their  development;  he  built 
hotels,  established  banks,  and  in  a  hundred  directions 
contributed  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  great  Western  Em- 
pire. 

*  *  * 

Leadville  possessed  no  more  loyal  citizen  than  Col. 
George  W.  Cook,  who  perhaps  did  more  than  any  other 
single  person  to  spread  abroad  the  fame  of  the  mineral 
wonder  of  the  nineteenth  century,  his  connection  with 
the  railways  and  railroad  managers  of  the  country  af- 
fording him  exceptional  advantages  in  the  work  of  pub- 
licity. He  organized  the  famous  Cook  Drum  Corps,  a 
most  powerful  musical  organization  that  has  survived 

[327] 


to  this  day.  The  corps  has  attended  every  national  en- 
campment of  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Rennhlic  for  the 
past  thirty  years,  numerous  political  national  conven- 
tions, spreading  the  fame  of  Leadville  from  the  lakes 
to  the  gulf  and  from  ocean  to  ocean.  General  Cook  was 
twice  elected  Mayor  of  Leadville,  acquitting  himself 
handsomely  as  a  civic  ruler,  and  would  have  hazarded 
his  well-earned  reputation  as  such  by  standing  for  elec- 
tion to  a  third  term  but  for  my  personal  objection.  I 
seemed  to  know  when  he  had  had  enough,  and  threat- 
ened to  oppose  his  candidacy  if  he  persisted,  a  hint  suf- 
ficiently potent  to  induce  him  gracefully  to  decline  a 
renomination.  He  was  a  picturesque  character  and  won 
great  fame,  eventually  reaching  the  lower  house  of  Con- 
gress. He  lived  to  thank  me  for  reminding  him  when 
it  was  time  to  quit. 


Few  men  did  more  than  Tingley  S.  Wood  to  encour- 
age prospecting;  and  in  the  development  of  mines  he 
spent  a  goodly  fortune,  without  being  adequately  re- 
warded. Aside  from  his  connection  with  the  Lillian  and 
other  well  known  properties,  he  is  said  to  have  located 
and  done  more  or  less  work  upon  at  least  a  hundred  prop- 
erties. His  example  was  a  great  stimulus  to  the  efforts 
of  others  in  the  mining  field. 


Prominent  factors  in  the  early  discovery  and  devel- 
opment of  mineral  riches  in  the  Leadville  Mining  Dis- 
trict, and  in  that  school  of  metallurgy  that  quickly 
brought  fame  to  the  camp,  were  Philip  Argyll,  E.  C. 
Gilman,  Maurice  Starne,  Willard  S.  Morse,  T.  F.  Van 
Wagenen,  John  Bolton  Parish,  Wm.  Byrd  Page,  Ber 
Stanley  Revett,  Joseph  Lindsay,  Franklin  Guitermar  \ 

A.  A.  Blow,  James  Aaron  Shinn,  Franklin  Ballou,  Henr   \ 
E.  Wood,  J.  R.  Champion,  J.  H.  Stotesbury,  Seeley  V 
Mudd,  Edward  R.  Holden,  Dr.  M.  W.  lies,  James 
Brown,  Karl  Filers,  Sam  Adams,  Edward  Eddy,  Jarr 

B.  Grant,  A.  V.  Bohn,  Frank  Parrish,  Robert  J.  Ca     , 
Thomas  J.  Smith,  and  S.  D.  Nicholson. 

[328] 


Distinguished  among  the  pioneer  investors  and  pro- 
moters were  Edwin  Harrison  and  H.  Z.  Leiter.  Po- 
tent friends  of  Leadville  interests,  men  who  per- 
haps did  more  for  the  mining,  smelting  and  mercantile 
advancement  than  the  community  at  the  time  realized 
may  be  mentioned  J.  J.  Hagerman,  President  of  the  Col- 
orado Midland  Railway;  D.  B.  Robinson  and  H.  Coil- 
bran,  General  Managers  of  that  line,  and  S.  M.  Brown, 
for  thirty-five  years  representative  of  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande;  Daniel  Eels  and  Charles  Otis,  of  Cleveland, 

and  Henry  I.  Higgins,  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

*  *  # 

Mike  Eagan  was  another  Leadville  character  who 
rose  to  fame,  finally  becoming  County  Treasurer.  A 
fellow  countryman,  at  the  Midland  depot  one  day,  ob- 
served a  car  attached  to  a  train  bearing  the  title :  "Michi- 
gan Central."  Laboriously  spelling  out  the  words, 
"Mich — Mike — igan — Eagan — Mike  Eagan!  Holy 
Smoke!  Mike  has  been  Treasurer  but  a  year,  and  now  he 

owns  a  railroad!" 

*  *  * 

James  Barton  James,  a  Colorado  scribe,  is  to  blame 
for  this : 

Music  tremblin'  in  the  air, 

Out  in  Colorado ; 
People  smilin'  everywhere 

Out  in  Colorado ; 
Laughter  in  the  merry  skies, 
Cupids  in  the  wimmens'  eyes 
Brooks  a  singin'  lullabys, 

Out  in  Colorado. 

Breezes  sing  the  song  of  health, 

Out  in  Colorado; 
Hills  a  bustin'  with  their  wealth, 

Out  in  Colorado ; 

Cheeks  aglow  with  a  healthy  flush, 
Teach  the  roses  how  to  blush, 
And  the  purty  girls !  O,  hush ! 

Out  in  Colorado. 

[3291 


Politicians  never  lie, 

Out  in  Colorado; 
Lawyers  diffident  and  shy, 

Out  in  Colorado. 
Preachers  aim  their  hardest  licks 
At  oF  Satan  an'  his  tricks, 
Never  touch  on  politics, 

Out  in  Colorado. 

Bloomer  girls  all  ride  at  night, 

Out  in  Colorado; 
Shamed  to  face  the  open  light, 

Out  in  Colorado. 
All  so  modest  and  so  meek, 
'Bout  a  showin'  their  physique— 
Jes'  as  if  the  men'd  peek, 

Out  in  Colorado. 

JF  I  should  hear  the  call  to  die, 
Don't  you  think  I'd  ever  fly 
'Way  from  Colorado. 
Heaven's  awful  far  away, 
An'  although  it's  nice,  they  say, 
I'd  just  cuddle  down  and  stay 
Out  in  Colorado. 


A  history  of  the  work  and  record  of  churches,  hos- 
pitals and  schools  would  easily  fill  a  large  volume.  Lead- 
ville  school  boys — boys  born  at  that  excessive  altitude 
and  educated  in  its  grade  and  high  schools — have  won 
distinction  in  the  courts,  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  in 
medicine,  in  all  branches  of  the  mining  sck  nee,  as  well 
as  in  literature,  and  have  carried  the  fame  >f  Leadville 
to  the  nethermost  limits  of  the  earth.  A  a  posite  pict- 
ure of  the  youth  of  that  period,  illustratr  and  giving 
expression  to  the  influence  of  the  altitud  climate  and 
environment  upon  character,  would  be  F  jert  Dull  El- 
der, author,  at  23,  of  "The  Sojourner,"  breezy  West- 
ern romance,  lately  from  the  press  of  the  larpers.  Born 

[330] 


in  1889,  attended  Leadville  schools  until  1904;  Law- 
renceville,  1907;  Princeton,  1911 ;  Columbia  Law  School, 
1914.  During  vacations  he  managed  two  European 
trips.  His  summers  were  spent  in  the  mountains  of 
Colorado,  familiarizing  himself  with  every  detail  of  min- 
ing from  actual  contact  and  labor.  His  fond  mother  is 
justly  proud  of  the  fact  that  he  "lived  in  overalls  and 
gloried  in  dirt,"  and  believes  that  "to  his  rough-and- 
tumble  boyhood  he  owes  the  deep  sympathy  and  large 
humanity  peculiar  to  the  West."  He  already  ranks  as  a 
most  promising  member  of  the  New  York  and  Colorado 
bar. 

Another  Leadville  youth,  Fred  Freauff,  installed  the 
largest  electric  plant  in  the  world  at  the  Union  Depot, 
St.  Louis ;  while  still  another,  Claude  Boettcher,  has  dis- 
tinguished himself  and  honored  his  birthplace  in  the 
building  up  of  the  great  beet  sugar  industry  in  Colorado. 
And  there  are  others. 


A  few  miles  below  Leadville  is  Lord's  ranch,  ten- 
anted by  a  German  family.  On  the  roof  of  their  house 
was  a  sign  bearing  the  legend: 

"Hay,  Feed,  Keep  Folks." 

It  was  an  ordinary  road  house,  patronized  by  persons 
going  to  and  from  the  city.  There  was  a  dry  season  in 
the  early  '80s,  and  little  feed  for  man  or  beast.  Hence 
the  German  made  it  known,  in  a  way  quite  original,  that 
he  no  longer  could  entertain  the  traveling  public.  This 
he  did  by  painting  the  word  "no"  on  his  sign,  making  it 
read: 

"No  Hay,  Feed,  Keep  Folks." 


[331] 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

WITH  THE  COLLAPSE  OF  SILVER  LEADVILLE  AGAIN 
TURNS  TO  ITS  GOLD  DEPOSITS 

Since  compiling  this  volume  friends  have  suggested 
that  I  should  supplement  all  of  it  with  at  least  a  few  par- 
agraphs concerning  a  critical,  if  not  a  vital,  era  in  the 
history  of  Leadville — that  period  immediately  following 
the  closing  of  the  India  mints  to  the  coinage  of  silver, 
the  repeal  by  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  of  the 
silver-purchasing  clause  of  the  Sherman  Act,  the  rob- 
bing of  silver  of  its  debt-paying  function,  and  the  rapid 
depreciation  of  the  metal  in  the  markets  of  the  world 
from  $1.29.29  per  ounce,  its  coinage  value,  to  50  cents 
an  ounce,  its  value  as  a  base  metal. 

The  fact  that  Leadville  could  produce  $30,000,000  to 
$40,000,000  in  silver  a  year  had  alarmed  the  bankers  of 
the  world.  That  enormous  production  had  come  from 
an  area  scarcely  ten  square  miles  in  extent,  and  it  would 
have  been  extremely  hazardous  for  any  mining  engineer 
of  repute  to  predict  that  the  boundaries  of  the  silver- 
producing  zone  was  confined  within  that  narrow  limit. 
Financiers  and  political  economists  the  world  over  be- 
gan to  fear  that  there  might  be  many  more  places  just 
like  it;  and  agitation  of  the  subject,  in  Congress  and  the 
newspapers,  had  the  inevitable  result.  A  movement  soon 
was  set  on  foot  which  resulted,  in  1893,  in  the  mints  of 
India  closing  their  doors  to  silver. 

I  have  shown  that  Leadville,  in  1877-78,  was  trans- 
ferred from  a  gold  to  a  silver  camp,  mainly  because  rich 
silver  deposits  in  those  years  were  accidentally  found 

[332] 


WM.   R.   OWEN  HON.   CHAS.    E.   DICKINSON 

Founder  of  Leadville's   First  Ex-Mayor   of   Leadville,    Pioneer 

Dry  Goods  Store  Lumber    Merchant 

JOHN    HARVEY 
Prominent   Leadville  Mine  Owner 

and    Coal    Merchant 

HUGH     KELLY  SAM     LEONARD 

Leader     in     Early     Leadville  Leather    Merchant,    Prominent    in 

Mercantile    Circles  T.parlvillp    Rusinpss    T.ifp 


practically  on  the  surface  of  the  earth.  When  silver  fell 
in  price  to  fifty  cents  an  ounce  all  of  the  low-grade  mines 
were  of  necessity  closed,  and  the  future  of  Leadville 
hung  solely  upon  the  successful  solution  of  the  problem 
as  to  whether  gold  could  be  found  in  quantities  and  rich- 
ness sufficient  to  compensate  for  the  losses  in  silver. 
Theretofore  for  a  decade  gold  had  been  simply 
a  by-product,  the  annual  yield  never  exceeding  $250,000, 
against  from  $15,000,000  to  $18,000,000  in  silver  values. 

The  situation  was  desperate,  depending  wholly  upon 
the  ability  and  willingness  of  Leadville  people  themselves 
to  put  their  hands  in  their  pockets  and  contribute  the 
funds  necessary  to  demonstrate  the  claim  frequently 
made,  but  never  proven,  that  the  source  of  the  gold  in 
the  sands  of  California  Gulch  was  in  the  hills  surround- 
ing it.  To  produce  that  willingness  a  community 
awakening  was  necessary. 

I  called  to  my  aid  some  of  the  leading  mining  engi- 
neers of  the  camp — men  of  national  and  even  inter- 
national fame  as  such — Messrs.  A.  A.  Blow,  John  F. 
Campion,  Max  Boehmer,  Tingley  S.  Wood,  Louis  S. 
Noble,  A.  V.  Bohn,  R.  E.  Taft,  and  others— all  of  whom 
contributed  to  my  newspapers  illuminating  monographs 
on  the  subject.  It  was  treated  editorially  also,  and  be- 
came the  all-absorbing  topic  of  discussion  among  the 
people.  It  was  the  concensus  of  opinion  that  a  single 
experiment,  the  sinking  of  a  single  shaft  or  the  driving 
of  a  single  tunnel,  would  not  meet  the  situation.  There 
must  be  a  broad,  concerted  movement  to  "prove  up"  what 
had  been  previously  designated  as  "the  Leadville  Gold 
Belt,"  to  show  the  existence  of  gold  in  appreciable  quan- 
tities over  a  wide  area.  This  called  for  the  expenditure 
of  a  vast  sum  of  money,  since  the  enormous  expense  of 
"unwatering"  the  territory  would  first  have  to  be  met. 
The  practical  question  that  confronted  the  people  was 

[333] 


the  raising  of  the  funds  necessary  to  purchase  heavy 
and  costly  pumping  plants,  to  begin  the  work  upon  a 
large  and  comprehensive  scale,  to  demonstrate  the  claims 
of  the  mining  engineers  named,  singularly  harmonious 
in  their  views. 

It  is  questionable  if  anything  would  have  resulted 
from  the  agitation  but  for  the  efforts  of  a  single  person 
— Mr.  Calvin  Henry  Morse,  then  proprietor  of  the  Ven- 
dome  Hotel,  and  now  manager  of  the  Brown  Palace 
Hotel  at  Denver.  This  man — young  and  overflowing 
with  zeal,  albeit  surcharged  with  public  spirit — under- 
took to  give  practical  shape  and  direction  to  the  move- 
ment. He  compiled  and  published  in  pamphlet  form  the 
monograms  of  the  mining  engineers  that  had  appeared 
in  my  papers,  embellished  their  theories  with  comprehen- 
sive maps,  and  gave  wide  publicity  to  their  views  and 
their  convictions.  He  then  inspired  the  incorporation 
of  the  "Home  Mining  Company,"  the  shares  placed  at 
$1.00  each,  that  all  classes  of  the  community  might  con- 
tribute to  the  movement  so  palpably  in  the  interest  of  all. 
He  was  not  long  in  securing  sufficient  funds  to  warrant 
the  purchase  of  machinery  and  the  inauguration  of  ac- 
tive operations.  A  shaft  upon  what  was  known  as  the 
"Rex"  mine,  in  the  center  of  the  "Gold  Belt,"  was  chosen 
for  the  initial  effort. 

In  an  article  under  the  caption  of  "Exploitation  of  a 
Theory,"  Mr.  John  F.  Campion  had  made  these  pre- 
dictions : 

"That  the  Leadville  district  is  the  most  productive 
and  extensive  mining  region  yet  discovered  in  the  United 
States,  and  probably  in  the  world. 

"That  the  Carbonate  Camp's  production  of  gold  for 
the  year  1894  will  be  the  second  largest — if  not  the  first 
— of  any  mining  district  in  the  State. 

"That  during  the  year  1895  we  may  confidently  ex- 

[334] 


pect  to  exceed  the  gold  production  of  any  other  mining 
locality  in  Colorado. 

"And  finally  that  in  1896  we  are  very  likely  to  pro- 
duce more  gold  in  this  locality  than  all  the  balance  of  the 
State  combined,  unless  some  new  districts  of  more  ex- 
tent and  value  shall  be  discovered  in  the  interval." 

Mr.  Campion's  predictions — at  the  time  considered 
visionary  in  the  extreme — were  more  than  verified,  and 
Leadville's  gold  production  steadily  rose  from  $250,000 
to  $4,000,000  per  annum,  and  has  been  jmaintained 
throughout  all  the  years  that  since  have  intervened.  Mr. 
Morse  was  indefatigable  in  his  efforts  to  arouse  and  sus- 
tain public  confidence  in  the  movement,  and  doubtless  ex- 
perienced many  anxious  hours  of  uncertainty  and  doubt 
while  the  shaft  was  being  driven  down  to  mineral  in  the 
Rex  mine. 

In  a  letter  to  the  author,  written  in  1913,  he  says : 

"I  want  to  recall  one  incident  to  you  which,  to  my 
mind,  was  both  amusing  and  characteristic  of  a  mining 
boom.  It  occurred  when  the  Rex  excitement  was  at  its 
.height,  and  it  seemed  but  a  question  of  a  few  days  when 
Bob  O'Neill  and  Jim  Brown  would  get  the  Rex  shaft 
down  to  the  ore  indicated  by  the  core  from  the  drill  hole. 
You  will  recall  probably  that  we  talked  over  the  possi- 
bility of  the  shaft  being  a  failure.  You  had  obtained 
from  McGowan  and  Max  Boehmer  articles,  illustrated 
by  drawings,  showing  how  the  ore  might  have  been 
dragged  into  a  fault,  and  the  diamond  drill  might  have 
cut  into  this  fault  when  it  went  through  the  thirty  feet 
of  ore.  You  will  recall  that  it  was  preparing  the  public 
mind  for  a  possible  failure,  and  to  let  us  all  out  of  having 
intentionally  created  a  false  boom,  in  which  event  we 
might  have  been  hanged  or  run  out  of  town  as  fakirs." 

Neither  Mr.  Morse  nor  myself  were  hanged  or  run 
out  of  town,  although  both  quitted  it  forever  in  1896, 
when  the  excitement  attending  the  gold  discoveries  in 

[3351 


the  Ibex  and  other  mines  was  at  its  height.  A  physical 
collapse  compelled  my  withdrawal.  Greater  inducements 
in  the  hotel  line  caused  Mr.  Morse  to  remove  to  Denver. 
I  question,  however,  if  his  efforts  in  behalf  of  Leadville, 
in  inaugurating  and  sustaining  what  was  known  as  the 
"Gold  Belt  Era"  was  appreciated  at  its  full  worth.  Com- 
munities are  proverbially  ungrateful,  and  it  is  likely  that 
the  Rex  shaft  house  will  be  the  only  monument  ever 
erected  to  the  memory  of  Calvin  Henry  Morse.  His 
labors  in  the  promotion  of  the  material  concerns  of 
Leadville,  however,  were  not  confined  to  the  Gold  Belt 
Era.  During  the  entire  period  of  his  residence  there  he 
worked  untiringly  for  the  community  uplift,  quietly  and 
modestly  yet  always  effectively,  for  his  methods  were 
ever  subtle,  analytical,  and  buttressed  with  reason,  logic 
and  common  sense.  His  long  connection  with  the  hotel 
business  in  Colorado  gave  him  a  very  extended  acquaint- 
ance with  financiers,  captains  of  industry  and  moving 
factors  general1^  throughout  the  country,  and  through 
his  direct  influence  with  that  element  millions  of  capital 
were  brought  there  for  investment.  I  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  be  closely  associated  with  him  for  a  term  of 
years,  through  periods  of  evil  times  as  well  as  good,  and, 
without  desiring  to  make  any  invidious  comparisons,  I 
am  strongly  of  the  conviction  that  he  achieved  more  for 
Leadville  than  any  other  person  of  my  acquaintance. 
Senator  Tabor  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the 
"Father  of  Leadville."  Calvin  H.  Morse,  under  greater 
difficulties  and  more  numerous  obstructions,  and  with 
far  larger  sacrifices  of  time  and  money,  may  with  reason 
claim  the  title  of  "Savior  of  Leadville."  And  his  most 
effective  work  was  done  when  the  people  needed  a 
man  of  his  unyielding  determination  and  sterling  worth 
to  lead  them  out  of  the  slough  of  despond  into  which  the 
evolution  of  events  had  consigned  them. 

[336] 


rl* 


CASTLE    BUILDING    ABOVE    THE    CLOUDS 

A   NORMAN    TEMPLE    ABOVE   TIMBER   LINE 

MIDIEVAL   ARCHITECTURE    IN    THE    ALTITUDES 

FROZEN    PALACE    IN    THE    SUNLIGHT 
How   Massive   Walls   Were   Erected   in    the   Bright    Glare    of   Day 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

CRYSTAL  CARNIVAL  AND  ICE  PALACE — A  MOST  GOR- 
GEOUS ARCHITECTURAL  SPECTACLE 

It  was  not  until  the  eventful  winter  of  1895  that  the 
"Cloud  City,"  shaking  herself  loose  from  the  shackles 
of  business,  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  ignoring  the  stern 
demands  which  the  acquisition  of  wealth  imposed  on  our 
natures,  resolved  that  she  would  hold  high  feast  and  car- 
nival, and  invite  the  world  to  the  festal  board.  But  the 
Royal  City  of  the  Hills,  the  fountain  head  of  the  gold 
and  silver  stream,  must  prepare  a  feast  worthy  of  her 
proud  past.  Nothing  stereotyped,  nothing  that  was  con- 
ventional, naught  that  savored  of  the  commonplace,  was 
to  be  tolerated.  In  whatever  manner  Leadville  would 
receive  her  guests,  the  idea  underlying  their  entertain- 
ment must  be  unique,  original  and  impressive. 

From  the  inner  consciousness  of  the  "Cloud  City's" 
life  budded  and  blossomed  the  idea  of  the  "Crystal  Car- 
nival" and  the  "Ice  Palace." 

The  "Ice  Palace"  idea  gradually  grew  and  took  shape 
and  form.  In  mass  meeting  assembled  the  citizens  re- 
solved that  the  "Carnival"  must  be  on  such  a  scale  of 
magnificence  as  would  attract  international  attention. 
With  the  energy  which  characterized  her  people,  all 
financial  needs  were  quickly  provided,  and  the  commu- 
nity cast  about  for  a  man  who  would  best  embody  in  his 
own  personality  her  true  spirit.  The  man  on  whom  the 
choice  instinctively  rested  was  Hon.  Tingley  S.  Wood, 
a  pioneer  mining  operator,  who  combined  in  himself  the 
rugged  and  hardy  virtues  of  the  West  with  the  culture, 
the  refinement  and  the  artistic  feeling  of  the  East. 

[337] 


Chosen  with  unanimous  approval  to  the  financially 
unremunerative  position  of  Director-General  of  the 
"Carnival,"  he  at  once  began  the  arduous  task  imposed. 
In  bold  and  striking,  but  majestic  outlines,  he  sketched 
the  ground  plan  for  the  "Ice  Palace"  that  was  to  be 
Leadville's  crowning  triumph  and  achievement.  His 
magnificent  ideas  met  ready  response  from  the  people, 
and  soon  the  great  undertaking  was  begun.  An  army 
of  workmen  was  given  employment,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
from  the  period  of  its  inception  the  graceful  walls  of  the 
"Ice  Palace"  rose  toward  the  sky.  The  site  selected  is 
on  "Capital  Hill,"  a  gentle  eminence  on  the  western  edge 
of  the  city,  commanding  a  magnificent  view  of  the  treas- 
ure-stored hills  to  the  east,  and  the  giant  peaks  of  the 
Continental  Divide  to  the  west,  rising  to  an  altitude  of 
14,000  feet,  while  spread  below  is  the  busy  city,  pulsing 
with  the  heart  beats  of  social  and  commercial  activity. 

The  poet  alone  can  paint  the  glories  of  this  marvelous 
creation  of  frozen  bi.p-uty.  It  was  planned  on  a  scale  of 
magnificence  never  before  attempted.  Moscow,  Mont- 
real and  St.  Paul  have  had  their  palaces  of  ice,  but  these 
were  mere  dwarfs  to  the  Crystal  Castle  that  so  grandly 
arose  from  the  summit  of  "Capital  Hill."  It  was 
not  merely  a  noble  picture  to  the  eye,  all  cold,  cheerless 
and  desolate  inside.  Within  the  ice  walls  were  interior 
frame  walls,  affording  comfortable  heated  halls.  The 
"Palace"  was  the  nucleus  of  the  "Carnival."  The  "Car- 
nival" was  the  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  the  people. 
For  the  first  time  in  eighteen  years  had  they  resolved  to 
bid  the  world  to  a  snowy  festival.  Within  the  giant 
castellated  walls,  covering  an  area  of  300  by  450  feet, 
were  ball  rooms,  in  which  were  to  be  seen  the  most 
beautiful  effects  that  artistic  skill  and  cunning  could 
produce.  Between  these  beautiful  apartments  extended 
the  great  expanse  of  the  ice  rink,  covering  16,000  square 

[333] 


feet  of  skating  surface,  illuminated  with  the  bewildering 
splendor  of  electric  lights,  where  merry  skaters  glided 
over  polished  surfaces  to  entrancing  strains  of  inspiring 
music.  On  entering  the  grand  portal  of  the  edifice  the 
eye  rested  in  pleased  wonder  at  the  marvels  unfolded. 
All  the  State  contributed  of  its  wealth  to  the  store  of 
rare  curios,  as  well  as  of  the  products  of  its  brain  and  in- 
dustry. On  every  hand  were  seen  unique  and  imposing 
statues  of  ice  and  snow,  illustrating  the  typical  life  of 
the  western  hills,  pictured  with  winter's  pigments — the 
chief  est  triumph  of  our  mountain  art. 

The  "Carnival"  season  comprised  a  varied  and  de- 
lightful round  of  pleasure.  The  ball  rooms  were  open 
nightly  to  the  people;  daily  and  nightly  the  great  rink 
was  filled  with  the  merry  skaters;  elaborate  toboggan 
slides  were  the  resort  of  the  thousands  who  desired  this 
exhilarating  sport.  There  were  snow  shoe  clubs,  curling, 
hockey,  skating,  sleighing  and  coasting  clubs,  which 
made  it  their  constant  effort  to  provide  entertainment 
for  the  guests.  The  "Goddess  of  Light"  was  invoked, 
,and  to  the  latest  electric  effects,  gleaming  search-lights, 
and  the  exquisitely  wonderful  prismatic  colors  of  the 
brilliant  illumination  of  the  walls  of  ice,  was  added  the 
superb  glory  of  most  gorgeous  pyrotechnic  displays. 

And  to  all  this  feast,  spread  by  the  "City  of  the 
Mountains,"  Leadville  invited  the  world.  To  the  toiler 
of  the  mines,  the  man  at  the  throttle,  the  clerk  and  the 
laborer,  the  business  and  professional  worker,  and  to 
all  who  would  see  the  greatest  producer  of  wealth  in  the 
world,  in  gala  attire,  Leadville  extended  her  hands  of 
welcome.  It  was  the  "People's  Carnival,"  and  the  peo- 
ple were  received  with  the  warm  and  genial  cordiality 
that  characterized  Western  hospitality.  The  doors  of 
the  city  stood  wide  open,  and  Leadville  heartily  bid  all 
to  come  and  make  merry  at  her  Crystal  Carnival. 

[339] 


On  the  rock  riven  ramp  of  the  mountains 
With  the  gleam  of  a  gem  of  great  price, 

From  the  deep  frozen  heart  of  the  fountains, 
Is  builded  the  Palace  of  Ice. 

Of  the  beams  from  the  Northern  Lights,  shifting, 
Of  the  diamonds  that  sparkle  on  snow, 

Of  the  blue  that  the  cloud  films  sweep,  drifting, 
Of  the  sunset's  incarnadine  glow; 

Of  the  rubies  that  bead  the  wine  chalice, 
Of  the  gold-molten  rays  of  the  sun, 

Of  the  rainbow — is  reared  the  fair  palace, 
Damascened  with  pure  silver,  frost-spun. 

Crystal  clear  shine  its  glittering  towers, 

All  effulgent  its  icicled  halls — 
Frowning  over,  the  icy  keep  lowers, 

Steel-bright  ramparts  engirdle  the  walls. 

Brave  King  Cai  u' val  marshals  his  legions — 
With  high  courage  and  cunning  device, 

They  march  onward  through  storm-smitten  regions, 
And  beleaguer  the  Palace  of  Ice. 

Through  the  hail  of  barbed  frost-arrows  stinging, 
To  the  heart  of  the  stronghold  they  win — 

Dancing,  shouting,  exulting  and  singing, 

Flushed  with   triumph,   the  victors   throng  in, 

Down  the  snow  fields  toboggans  are  sweeping 
Where  the  light  snow  shoes  silently  go; 

Mirth  and  Music  their  revels  are  keeping 
As  the  swift  skaters  glide  to  and  fro. 

Merry,  dazzling,  the  pageant  of  pleasure — 

And  the  joy  of  the  hour  will  suffice, 
As  the  dancers  shall  trip  a  gay  measure 

In  the  halls  of  the  Palace  of  Ice. 

[340] 


For  when  green-vestured  Spring,   too  long  banished, 
Shall  unfetter  the  close  prisoned  streams, 

We  shall  mourn  our  lost  palace  then  vanished, 
To  the  far,  sunset  land  of  our  dreams. 

When  the  great  "Crystal  Carnival"  was  projected, 
there  were  two  views  of  the  scope  and  extent  of  the 
undertaking  which  prevailed  among  the  people.  One 
was  that  the  "Ice  Palace"  should  be  in  the  nature  of  a 
local  affair,  with  no  attempt  at  elaboration  or  the  pro- 
duction of  such  grand  effects  that  it  would  bring  the 
whole  world  thither.  It  was  argued  that  we  were  an 
isolated  community,  with  a  rigorous  climate,  and  that 
we  could  not  induce  the  public  at  large  to  make  the  jour- 
ney to  this  supposed  provincial  city,  to  see  an  attraction 
which  might  or  might  not  prove  successful.  But  from 
the  inception  of  the  enterprise  the  newspapers  all  over 
the  country,  the  Chambers  of  Commerce,  and  other  pub- 
lic bodies,  approved  of  the  "Leadville  Ice  Palace"  and 
"Crystal  Carnival."  It  soon  became  evident  to  Lead- 
,\ ille's  most  prominent  men  that  the  "Crystal  Carnival," 
to  be  successful,  should  be  projected  on  a  scale  of  grand- 
eur unequaled  in  the  history  of  the  world.  In  fact,  it 
was  on  the  condition  that  such  was  to  be  the  extent  and 
scope  of  the  enterprise  that  several  of  the  most  prom- 
inent gentlemen  of  the  city,  distinguished  among  whom 
was  Calvin  H.  Morse,  consented  to  promote  the  festival. 

"It  must  be  everything  or  nothing,"  said  they.  "Lead- 
ville never  yet  has  done  anything  by  halves.  The  great- 
est and  strongest,  the  most  substantial,  mining  camp  in 
the  country,  cannot  advertise  to  the  world  a  'Crystal  Car- 
nival' that  will  be  second  to  other  similar  entertainments. 
This  must  be  unique;  this  must  be  majestic  and  un- 
rivaled." 

When  the  decision  to  inaugurate  the  magnificent 

[341] 


"Carnival"  on  an  elaborate  and  costly  scale  was  finally 
reached,  Director  General  Wood  surrounded  himself 
with  a  corps  of  able  assistants,  who  were  thoroughly  ca- 
pable of  carrying  into  execution  bold  and  striking  plans. 

When  operations  on  the  great  structure  were  begun 
an  army  of  laborers  was  kept  at  work;  day  and  night 
these  genii  of  the  Ice  King  piled  ice-block  on  ice-block, 
and  when  the  date  for  the  opening  ceremonies  was 
reached,  the  massive  structure  rested  in  glittering  grand- 
eur on  the  summit  of  "Capital  Hill." 

No  cold  figures  can  give  to  the  general  reader  any 
conception  of  the  magnificent  proportions  of  the  vast 
"Winter  Palace"  that  Leadville  constructed.  The  "Cloud 
City"  is  contented  with  nothing  but  superlatives,  and 
superlatives  must  be  used  in  the  description  of  the  won- 
derful frost  pile,  the  superb  structure  in  which  were 
frozen  the  rippling  brook  as  it  sings  through  the  valleys  ; 
the  roaring  torrent  as  it  rushes  with  mad  glee  from  its 
mountain  home;  or  the  thunderous  cataract  that  foams 
and  dashes  over  crags  and  cliffs.  All  the  music  of  Na- 
ture, frozen  from  the  diapason  of  silence,  stood  there  on 
the  western  crown  of  the  city,  the  embodiment  of  a 
mighty  force,  stilled  by  the  wand  in  the  hand  of  the 
Winter  Monarch. 

But  the  structure  of  frozen  architecture  was  not 
builded  without  a  struggle  with  the  ancient  enemy  of  the 
Frost  King.  There  were  days  when  Phoebus  and  his 
chariot  rode  rough  shod  over  the  glittering  ice  walls, 
marred  its  translucent  beauty  and  fretted  the  outer 
edges.  But  old  Jove  had  decreed  that  the  path  of  the 
chariot  through  the  heavens  should  be  circumscribed; 
that  but  a  few  hours  could  he  pour  his  red  hot  bolts 
against  the  walls  that  the  Frost  King's  minions  had 
erected.  Phoebus,  therefore,  struggled  in  vain.  The 
shafts  did  but  little  harm.  The  long  hours  of  darkness 

[342] 


enabled  the  force  of  the  night  to  close  up  the  gaps  that 
"the  fiery  darts  had  made;  so  when  the  inauguration  of 
the  "Palace"  was  announced  it  showed  not  a  scar  or  an 
abrasion  in  the  struggle  it  had  waged  with  the  Sun  God. 

Looking  upon  this  great  building  from  the  exterior 
impressed  the  spectator  with  the  fact  that  it  was  con- 
structed with  a  view  to  strength  and  durability,  rather 
than  ornamentation.  Its  size  can  be  better  appreciated 
from  the  statement  that  it  enclosed  five  acres  of  ground, 
than  from  the  figures  of  dimensions.  It  was  of  the  Nor- 
man castellated  style  of  architecture,  usually  selected  for 
buildings  constructed  of  ice,  for  the  heavy  shade  effects 
that  are  secured  and  lasting  strength  of  its  massive 
walls.  In  the  "Ice  Palace"  the  monotony  of  plain  walls 
was  relieved  by  beams  and  projecting  buttresses,  corbel- 
ing and  paneling.  These  effects,  while  in  themselves 
plain,  afforded  relief  to  the  eye.  Then  the  buttresses  of 
hewn  ice  that  extended  midway  to  the  panels  of  the  top, 
and  the  indentures  and  projections  produced  by  towers 
and  arches,  gave  added  effects.  The  main  towers  were 
of  irregular  pattern ;  those  of  the  north  front  were  octa- 
gonal. They  were  ninety  feet  high  and  forty  feet  in  di- 
ameter, and  formed  the  main  feature  of  ornamentation 
of  the  building.  Their  imposing  height,  reaching  as  they 
did  above  the  walls  and  other  towers,  made  them  the 
first  and  most  prominent  objects  to  meet  the  eye  as  the 
"Palace"  was  approached.  They  were  decorated  by  tur- 
rets on  the  eight  corners  of  the  octagon,  and  with  panel- 
ings  and  battlements.  The  south  towers  were  circular, 
sixty  feet  high  and  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  The  corner 
towers  of  the  main  building  were  also  circular.  They 
were  forty-five  feet  above  the  ground,  with  the  measure- 
ment of  the  diameter  twenty  feet. 

At  the  north,  south  and  east  sides  were  entrances 
ornamented  with  huge  masonry  carved  and  hewn  blocks 

[343] 


of  ice.  The  portals  were  colossal  and  of  artistic  design. 
The  great  stairways  were  of  a  grandeur  that  would  make 
them  fitting  to  a  structure  more  enduring  than  a  palace 
of  ice.  At  the  west  side,  the  center  was  marked  by  an 
ornamental  bay.  From  the  north  to  the  south  towers 
the  distance  was  325  feet.  To  this  must  be  added  the 
extension  to  the  south,  including  an  archway  over  Sev- 
enth street,  and  the  separate  building  that  enclosed  a 
riding  gallery;  in  all  180  feet,  making  the  total  length 
of  the  building  435  feet,  or  one-twelfth  of  a  mile.  The 
main  building  was  square,  325  feet  from  corner  tower 
to  corner  tower.  The  south  extension  to  the  main  build- 
ing included  an  arch  over  Seventh  street,  that  made  a 
span  of  twenty-seven  feet,  through  which  the  traffic  of 
this  thoroughfare  passed.  This  additional  building  was 
on  the  same  general  style  as  the  "Palace"  proper.  Its 
dimensions  were  sixty  by  eighty  feet,  and  was  used  solely 
for  the  accommodation  of  a  ' "merry-go-round."  The 
main  entrance  to  the  "Palace"  was  at  the  north,  between 
the  great  octagonal  towers.  It  was  of  ponderous  build, 
and  decorated  in  the  most  ornamental  style  possible  to 
the  material  used  in  its  construction,  the  translucent  ice 
giving  it  wondrous  brilliancy  in  the  bright  sunlight  of 
day,  or  at  night  when  the  interior  was  illuminated  by 
countless  electric  lamps.  Here  "Leadville"  stood  to 
welcome  her  guests  from  every  quarter.  This  allegori- 
cal figure  was  nineteen  feet  tall,  mounted  on  a  pedestal 
twelve  feet  high,  all  sculptured  and  built  of  ice.  The 
outstretched  right  arm  and  hand  pointed  to  the  rich 
mineral  hills  from  whence  Leadville's  wealth  is  taken, 
and  over  the  right  arm  was  carried  a  scroll  represent- 
ative of  the  returns  of  the  camp.  On  it  in  raised  gold 
figures  was  the  sum  of  Leadville's  production  in  the  past 
of  the  precious  metals. 

This  description  gives  the  reader  a  feeble  idea  of  the 


[344] 


castle  of  glittering  ice  as  it  stood  in  all  the  splendor  of 
shimmering  beauty  on  the  crest  of  "Capital  Hill,"  full 
fronting  the  matchless  hills  of  the  east  from  which  was 
drawn  the  sustenance  that  gave  this  structure  life. 

And  when  might  this  wonderful  "Palace"  be  seen 
in  all  its  weird  glory  ?  When  indeed  ?  With  each  change 
of  hour  some  new  and  dazzling  beauty  was  revealed; 
with  each  shifting  of  the  light  of  day  or  night  some  hid- 
den charm  was  brought  to  view,  and  evoked  fresh  emo- 
tions of  joy  to  the  beholder's  heart. 

He  might  stand  upon  the  gentle  slope  of  "Capital 
Hill,"  just  as  the  rosy  dawn  unclasps  the  curtain  of  the 
night  and  let  the  golden  rays  of  the  Lord  of  Day  burst  on 
the  sleeping  world;  and  standing  there  what  beauties, 
what  wonderful  effects,  were  to  be  seen!  Dim  and  dull 
azure  in  the  early  light  the  frozen  ice  stood  on  its  lonely 
site,  chill,  frowning  and  forbidding;  cold  and  bleak  as 
the  eternal  poles.  The  frozen  grandeur,  while  it  awed, 
yet  lent  the  heart  to  admiration.  But  behold  the  change ! 
The  portals  of  the  east  swing  slowly  ajar.  Red  beams 
of  fire  shoot  from  the  pearly  peaks,  and  now  the  frozen 
"Palace"  on  the  hill  assumes  new  luster.  Colored  by  the 
coming  glory  of  the  morn,  tower  and  turret,  battlement 
and  bastion,  dim  azure  hued  before,  now  radiates  with 
prismatic  light.  With  the  coming  of  the  dawn  the  beau- 
tiful structure  seems  to  rise  from  the  dim  sea  of  the 
night.  The  chill  and  forbidding  walls  begin  to  glow  with 
the  warm  tints  of  the  early  beams  of  the  morning.  The 
splendor  of  the  dawn  illumines  the  structure;  and  as 
the  blaze  of  glory  bursts  from  the  east,  the  entire  palace 
of  crystal  gleams  with  the  luster  of  the  day.  Could 
fairer  sight  be  pictured  than  Leadville's  beauteous  struc- 
ture in  the  early  hours  of  morning! 

But  when  the  day  was  done  and  the  darkness  spread 
its  sable  wings,  the  "Palace"  as  a  structure  of  solid  ice 

[345] 


seemed  to  disappear,  and  in  its  place,  as  though  by  the 
hand  of  a  magician,  emerged  a  weird  and  spectral  struc- 
ture, that  appeared  as  different  from  the  one  which 
could  be  seen  by  daylight  as  it  is  possible  for  the  imagina- 
tion to  conceive.  The  Lord  of  Day  faded  away  behind 
the  western  hills.  The  great  "Palace,"  so  dazzling  in 
the  brightness  of  the  sun,  again  became  chill  and  cold, 
of  that  glittering  steel  color  which  made  the  structure  so 
frigid  in  its  general  appearance.  But  the  shadows  deep- 
ened, and  as  dusk  elves  gathered  from  here  and  there, 
on  battlement  and  bastion,  the  forces  of  science  began  to 
play,  and  the  spectator's  eyes  were  surprised  by  scintil- 
lations from  diamond  points  of  electricity.  From  tower 
to  turret  flashed  the  great  white  search-lights  far  and 
near  across  the  snowy  ranges  of  the  distant  hills.  The 
whole  scene  soon  became  radiant  with  the  glow  of  elec- 
tricity. On  each  of  the  four  towers  the  intense  white 
light  rushed  its  billows  of  illumination.  The  walls  them- 
selves seemed  all  aglow  with  radiant  orbs.  Thousands 
of  these  lights  were  arranged  in  the  ice  walls,  and  the 
effects  thus  produced  were  most  dazzling  and  wonderful. 
The  cold  reality  of  the  frozen  mass  disappeared  in  the 
grand  transformation  scene  that  took  place  when  the 
sable  curtains  were  drawn  and  the  spirits  of  electricity 
conjured  from  the  darkness  the  marvelous  display. 

In  addition  to  the  giant  statue  of  Leadville,  an  alle- 
gorical figure  which  points  to  the  hills  of  silver  and  gold 
as  the  source  of  all  our  wealth,  all  through  the  vast  area 
of  the  building  there  were  arranged  a  number  of  unique 
statutes  in  snow  and  ice,  the  wonderful  native  material 
from  which,  with  the  skilled  hand  of  the  sculptor,  were 
produced  rare  and  beautiful  effects,  which  excited  more 
interest  than  the  finest  production  of  colder  marble. 

The  statuary  subjects  were  drawn  from  the  home  life 
of  our  people.  First  given  was  the  "Prospector,"  that 

[346] 


gnarled  and  grizzled  pioneer,  whose  life  is  spent  amid 
the  hills  in  pursuit  of  the  precious  mineral.  By  his  side, 
life  size,  and  as  natural,  walked  the  patient  Burro,  loaded 
down  with  the  old  prospector's  camping  kit.  The  effect 
produced  by  common  snow  covered  with  water  and 
frozen  to  give  it  the  proper  polish,  was  striking.  Then, 
there  was  to  be  seen  the  sturdy  Miner,  with  upraised 
hammer,  driving  the  drill  into  the  solid  rock.  Once  more 
he  was  seen,  hat  in  hand,  the  other  upraised,  and  holding 
the  precious  ore.  Silently  it  told  the  story,  "Struck  it 
Rich."  Again  the  Miner  was  seen,  this  time  with  ham- 
mer uplifted,  and  ready  to  descend  on  the  drill  which  his 
partner  held,  kneeling  down.  An  elaborate  work  of  art 
was  shown  in  the  statue  of  the  miners  at  work  with  the 
windlass,  a  most  realistic  snow  picture. 

"Sold  a  Mine"  was  the  title  of  the  last  of  this  series. 
With  high  silk  hat  on  back  of  head,  toothpick  in  mouth, 
hands  in  pocket,  the  figure  told  in  the  plainest  language 
that  he  had  unloaded  a  barrel  of  stock  on  a  rising  market, 
or  else  sold  his  mine  to  a  syndicate  and  was  preparing 
to  go  abroad.  Other  statues,  illustrating  phases  of  Lead- 
ville  life,  were  also  enshrined  in  snow  and  ice.  The  sub- 
jects were  chosen  with  artistic  skill,  and  formed  most 
unique  features  of  the  novel  carnival. 

Proceeding  up  the  grand  stairway,  and  passing 
through  the  foyer,  what  may  be  called  the  nave  of  the 
building  was  entered.  This  properly  was  the  skating 
rink,  and  contained  an  ice  surface  that  was  190  feet  in 
length  from  north  to  south,  and  80  feet  in  width.  It  was 
the  center  of  the  building;  around  it,  passing  a  prom- 
enade, and  on  either  side,  were  the  dancing  halls.  It 
was  covered  by  a  great  truss  roofing,  containing  eight 
cantilever  trusses.  The  decorations  of  this  immense  hall 
were  as  unique  as  effective.  The  roof  was  studded  with 
stalactites  of  ice,  myriads  upon  myriads  of  them  hanging 

[347] 


from  the  great  trusses  and  the  rafters  and  rods,  and 
every  inch  of  timbering  and  iron  was  covered  with  an 
ice  frosting  that  gave  the  whole  roof  the  glistening  of  a 
large  bed  of  diamonds.  This  room  was  entirely  of  ice. 
It  extended  from  the  north  to  the  south  walls  of  the  main 
building,  and  was  inclosed  on  the  sides  with  an  arcaded 
wall  of  pillars  and  arches,  the  pillars  set  fifteen  feet 
apart.  These  pillars  or  columns  of  ice  were  one  of  the 
most  novel  and  attractive  features  of  the  "Palace."  They 
were  octagonal,  five  feet  in  diameter,  and  so  built  that 
incandescent  electric  lamps  were  placed  in  the  center, 
the  light  radiating  from  them  in  all  directions.  This 
effect  in  lighting  was  also  produced  from  the  ends,  where 
lamps  were  imbedded  in  the  walls  and  over  the  arches, 
that  were  made  resplendent  by  the  incandescents  shining 
through  the  thin  slabs  of  transparent  ice  with  which  they 
were  veneered.  The  latter  lamps  were  placed  fourteen 
feet  above  the  floor,  and  gave  the  walls  an  appearance  as 
though  all  aglow  with  light.  There  were  also  arc  lights 
suspended  from  the  trusses  of  the  roof,  and  at  each  cor- 
ner was  placed  an  electric  search-light,  the  rays  of  all, 
vari-colored,  being  made  to  meet  in  the  center  of  the 
room.  The  lights  were  shif table,  and  could  be  made  to 
shine  into  any  nook  or  corner.  When  turned  upon  the 
frosted  and  icicled  roof,  an  effect  grand  beyond  descrip- 
tion was  produced.  This  great  room,  a  cave  of  ice  as  it 
really  was,  with  its  myriads  of  lamps,  its  illuminated  pil- 
lars and  walls,  its  tinseled  roof,  statuary  sculptured  in 
ice,  colonades  and  arched  recesses,  formed  a  picture  that 
was  a  dream  of  beauty.  The  most  elaborate  extrava- 
ganza was  never  more  brilliant  than  the  "Skating  Rink" 
of  "Leadville's  Ice  Palace." 

To  the  east,  or  left,  as  you  entered  from  Eighth 
street,  was  the  grand  ball  room,  50  x  80,  and  to  the  right 
of  the  rink,  an  auxiliary  ball  room  and  dining  hall  of  like 

[348] 


dimensions.  These  were  houses  built  within  the  palace. 
In  this  it  differed  from  all  others.  At  St.  Paul,  Quebec, 
Montreal  and  Moscow,  there  have  never  been  attempts 
at  amusements  other  than  skating.  Invariably  they  were 
cold  and  cheerless,  built  only  for  the  effects  of  the  outer 
walls.  Here  the  "Palace"  was  a  place  of  amusement  in 
the  strictest  sense,  a  place  where  people  might  come  for 
an  hour  or  a  day,  find  entertainment  and  be  comfortable. 
Each  had  parlor  and  dressing  rooms,  kept  at  a  comfort- 
able temperature.  There  were  convenient  lounging 
rooms.  The  walls  were  of  glass,  exposing  the  skaters  to 
view.  The  walls  were  finished  in  terra  cotta  and  blue, 
and  orange  and  blue ;  the  warmer  colors  at  the  base  gave 
a  cheerful  glow,  the  frieze  decorations  being  lighter. 
There  also  was  a  dining  room,  restaurant  and  kitchen, 
the  wares  of  concessionaires  being  arranged  along  the 
walls.  Maids  were  on  hand  to  attend  the  ladies. 

The  Fort  Dodge  Cow  Boy  Band  provided  the  music 
for  skaters  and  dancers. 

There  were  three  grand  pyrotechnic  displays  during 
the  season  on  a  scale  of  magnificence  beyond  anything 
seen  before  in  the  West. 

The  toboggan  slide  furnished  the  most  exhilarating 
and  fascinating  sport  of  the  winter  carnival.  While 
independent  of  the  association  and  its  management,  yet 
it  was  a  very  important  part  of  the  "Carnival"  itself.  It 
had  been  built  on  a  magnificent  scale,  being  2,100  feet 
long.  There  were  two  separate  slides  or  toboggans. 
One,  starting  at  Harrison  avenue,  and  twelve  hundred 
feet  long,  ran  on  the  right  side  of  Seventh  street  to 
Spruce.  This  was  met  by  one  from  the  "Palace,"  and 
for  a  block  between  Spruce  and  Pine  the  slides  ran  one 
on  each  side  of  the  street.  The  "Palace"  slide  was  900 
feet  long,  with  a  grade  pitch  of  about  sixty  feet.  The 
station  from  which  the  slide  started  was  nineteen  feet 

[349] 


above  the  ground,  the  toboggans  continuing  down  the 
Seventh  street  hill  to  the  east. 

The  Avenue  slide  started  from  a  station  twenty-six 
feet  above  the  ground,  and,  including  the  grade  of  the 
hill  to  the  west,  had  a  pitch  of  sixty-four  feet  to  Spruce 
street. 

Each  slide  contained  two  parallel  shoots  that  al- 
lowed toboggans  with  from  four  to  eight  passengers 
to  pass  down  every  half  minute. 

The  station  houses,  as  well  as  being  starting  places 
for  the  toboggans,  were  fitted  with  comfortable  waiting 
rooms,  furnished  with  seats,  and  kept  at  a  pleasant  tem- 
perature by  stoves.  The  Avenue  station  was  also  fitted 
with  a  lunch  counter.  Each  house  was  twenty  by  twen- 
ty-four feet  in  size,  well  built  and  ornamented.  The  sta- 
tions were  at  the  tops  of  the  houses,  reached  by  broad 
and  easy  stairways  on  the  outside. 

The  Leadville  Carnival  Snowshoe  Club  took  part  in 
all  the  carnival  parades,  and  acted  as  a  committee  of  en- 
tertainment for  the  "Carnival  Association."  The  mem- 
bers of  the  Club  were  at  the  depot  on  the  arrival  of  trains 
to  meet  visitors,  and  put  forth  their  best  efforts  to  fur- 
nish amusements  for  all  who  attended  the  "Carnival." 

The  Club  made  tramps  to  all  the  points  of  interest  in 
the  surrounding  country,  visiting  Twin  Lakes  two  or 
three  times  during  the  season,  but  this  was  the  limit,  as 
there  were  many  novices  in  the  Club,  and  a  longer  dis- 
tance would  have  been  a  task,  even  for  experts  to  make. 
Moonlight  evenings  were  the  favorite  time  for  snow- 
shoeing,  and  many  long  tramps  took  place  during  the 
cold,  clear  and  nipping  nights. 

Next  to  the  Snowshoe  Club  the  Military  Hockey  Club 
was  the  best  organized.  It  had  a  large  membership,  com- 
posed of  the  best  skaters  of  the  city. 

Within  the  "Ice  Palace"  a  large  area  set  apart  for 

[350] 


exhibits  was  occupied  by  the  handsome  displays  fur- 
nished by  artists,  manufacturers  and  merchants,  and  by 
the  railroads  and  the  hotels.  The  "Midway  Plaisance," 
painted  on  30,000  square  feet  of  canvas,  adorned  a  por- 
tion of  the  interior  walls.  This  and  the  various  other 
beautiful  exhibits,  such  as  a  working  model  of  a  loco- 
motive, rare  flowers  and  choice  fruits,  encased  in  solid 
blocks  of  ice,  did  not  fail  to  attract  those  who  attended 
the  "Carnival,"  and  called  forth  the  highest  encomiums 
for  those  who  had  been  so  zealous  and  tireless  in  build- 
ing and  appropriately  fitting  the  magnificent  structure. 


[351] 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

HEART-RENDING  CABLEGRAMS  THAT  SENT  THE  AUTHOR 
UPON  A  VERY  SAD  MISSION 

The  greatest  shock  I  ever  sustained  came,  like  a  bolt 
from  the  blue,  on  September  6,  1891,  in  the  form  of  a 
cablegram  from  Quimperle,  Finistere,  France,  announc- 
ing that  "Edith  has  cerebro  spinal  meningitis,"  quickly 
followed  by  another,  the  same  day:  "Edith  in  heaven." 

Edith  was  a  child  of  the  mountains,  born  at  an  alti- 
tude two  miles  above  the  sea — hair  of  a  fine  spun  golden 
lustre,  eyes  of  azure  blue,  sunny  disposition — just  ap- 
proaching her  fourth  birthday.  With  mother  and  elder 
sister,  she  was  spending  the  summer  season  on  the  rug- 
ged coast  of  Brittany,  some  four  hundred  miles  north- 
west of  Paris,  favorite  sketching  ground  for  the  ambi- 
tious students  of  the  Parisian  art  schools. 

Bretons,  descendants  of  the  Druids  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  worshippers  of  and  in  the  woods — are  mainly  a 
fisher  folk,  a  simple,  unlettered  people  of  rough  and  un- 
couth exterior,  yet  with  lofty  ideals,  none  more  cher- 
ished than  reverence  for  childhood.  The  Breton  man, 
however  humble  and  lacking  in  culture,  yet  religiously 
observes  the  ancient  custom  of  uncovering  upon  the  ap- 
proach of  a  child.  And  it  is  a  tradition  among  them  that 
no  contention  so  earnest,  no  quarrel  so  bitter,  no  combat 
so  sanguinary,  that  hate  is  not  dispelled  and  peace  re- 
stored, by  the  intercession  of  a  child.  Its  appearance 
upon  the  scene  is  the  signal  for  instant  cessation  of  hos- 
tilities, conciliation  usurping  its  place. 

It  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  Edith  should  be- 

[352] 


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come  a  favorite  among  the  simple  Breton  peasants.  Her 
shoes  were  of  leather,  a  novelty  to  the  universal  wearers 
of  sabots,  while  dress  no  less  than  mannerisms  appealed 
to  them  as  quite  bordering  upon  the  marvelous.  Among 
the  elders  she  soon  came  to  be  known  as  "the  Little 
White  Americaine,"  and,  since  she  readily  acquired  the 
native  patois  and  was  able  to  converse  with  them  in  their 
mother  tongue,  Edith  quickly  became  a  goddess  in  their 
wondering  eyes. 

Stricken  with  a  fatal  disease,  the  germs  of  which 
doubtless  were  sown  in  the  excessive  altitude  of  Lead- 
ville,  she  lay  ill  for  many  weeks  in  an  upper  chamber  of 
a  public  inn  overlooking  the  sea-swept  Breton  shore. 
Information  later  came  to  me  that  during  that  anxious 
period,  far  into  the  night  and  into  every  night,  guests 
of  the  house  could  with  difficulty  ascend  the  stairs  so 
crowded  were  they  with  kneeling  women,  crossing  them- 
selves and  telling  their  beads  as  earnest,  soulful  invoca- 
tions went  up  to  all  of  the  Saints  in  behalf  of  the  little 
sufferer.  And  later,  when  the  spirit  had  taken  its  flight, 
and  the  frail  little  body  was  prepared  for  the  long  jour- 
ney to  Paris,  the  diminutive  coffin  was  entirely  hidden  by 
the  flowers  gathered  by  them  from  the  neighboring  hill- 
sides. 

Because  of  the  congestion  of  bodies  in  Parisian  cem- 
eteries, they  are  periodically  exhumed  and  removed  to 
the  Catacombs  beneath  the  city,  fee  simple  title  to  burial 
plots  not  being  obtainable.  So  repulsive  to  me,  as  it 
would  be  to  any  American,  was  the  idea  of  consigning 
the  remains  of  a  loved  one  to  a  leased  lot,  I  directed  that 
it  be  sepultured  in  the  vault  of  the  American  Episcopal 
Church  until  other  disposition  could  be  provided.  Idol 
of  my  heart,  the  little  sunbeam  had,  at  the  Denver  depot, 
bid  me  "Good-bye,  Papa — Have  a  nice  time!"  and  no 
more  in  life  had  I  seen  her.  Indeed,  when  the  cable- 

[353] 


grams  were  sent  me  the  child  had  been  dead  for  days! 

In  the  early  spring  days  of  1892  I  determined  to  go 
to  Paris  and  superintend  the  interment  of  the  child's  re- 
mains in  the  Cemetery  of  LePecq,  at  St.  Germain,  a 
suburb  of  Paris,  where  title  to  lots  in  perpetuity  are 
procurable  and  where  many  Americans  have  found  a 
last  resting  place. 

The  transfer  was  made  with  that  regard  for  cer- 
emony so  characteristic  of  the  French.  The  official 
permit  for  the  removal  was  indeed  a  surprisingly  for- 
midable parchment,  decorated  with  white  ribbons  and 
red  seals.  The  Mayor  of  the  little  village,  as  well  as  the 
Town  Recorder,  and  a  uniformed  gendarme  with  rifle 
and  fixed  bayonet,  were  in  attendance,  lending  much 
pomp  to  what  in  America  would  have  been  a  very  com- 
monplace episode. 

On  a  gentle  grassy  slope  of  the  Seine,  overlooking 
Paris  and  the  beautiful  valley  between,  the  child  rests  in 
historic  ground,  under  the  very  windows  of  the  Chateau 
of  Henry  of  Navarre  and  the  grim  walls  of  Fort  Valer- 
ian, the  spires  of  Notre  Dame  and  of  St.  Denis,  tomb 
of  the  ancient  Kings  of  France,  with  the  Palace  and 
Garden  of  Versailles,  with  yet  fresh  memories  of  Marie 
Antoinette  and  other  Empresses  of  France  just  below. 
Surrounded  by  a  lofty  stone  wall,  and  guarded  by  an 
ever  watchful  Sexton,  whose  father  and  father's  father 
and  still  other  ancestors  back  into  the  Dark  Ages,  kept 
the  same  vigil  to  watch  over  it,  I  came  away  from  the 
hallowed  spot,  the  only  mourner,  with  feelings  wholly 
unmixed  with  doubt  or  apprehension,  really  rejoiced  that 
the  "Little  White  Americaine"  had  found  a  secure  rest- 
ing place,  far  removed  from  the  din  of  a  great  city,  far 
removed  from  the  perils  of  a  wicked  world. 

The  annexed  tribute  is  by  Callie  Bonney  Marble,  of 
Philadelphia : 

[354] 


O,  beauteous  little  life!  like  opening  bud, 

Sweet  promise  of  the  perfect  flower  to  be; 

We  cannot  call  thee  "dead"  or  even  "lost," 

Since  thro'  the  pearl-bound  gates  we  follow  thee. 

Somewhere  the  baby  lives,  as  truly  yours 
As  when  beside  you  trod  the  baby  feet; 

Somewhere,  with  all  the  baby  charm  of  earth, 
She  lives,  the  bud  immortal  blossom  sweet. 

And  tho'  your  heart  in  anguish  questions  "Why?" 
And  only  see  the  tiny  mound  of  earth ; 

She  is  not  there,  for  when  the  spirit  fled, 

In  a  fairer  world  beyond  a  soul  had  birth. 

Edith  her  name,  your  own,  your  loved  always; 

The  two  worlds  touch,  and  Heaven  is  not  far, 
Since  baby  feet  have  crossed  the  border  land, 

And  baby  hands  left  golden  Gates  Ajar. 


The  greatest  value  of  a  journey  abroad  is  embraced 
in  its  effect  in  removing  impressions,  in  changing  con- 
victions, in  breaking  down  prejudices,  in  broadening  the 
vision,  in  giving  one  a  keener  perception,  and  a  more 
comprehensive  appreciation  of  the  law  of  proportions.  A 
man  who  can  take  a  trip  to  Europe  and  not  return  a  big- 
ger and  a  better  American,  more  fully  equipped  for  the 
higher  and  nobler  duties  of  citizenship,  had  best  not  re- 
turn at  all.  Too  many  wholly  miss  the  great  lessons  to 
be  learned.  Too  many  get  an  entirely  erroneous  im- 
pression of  what  he  sees  and  learns.  Too  many  follow 
the  beaten  paths,  seeing  only  what  thousands  before  him 
have  seen,  coming  back  with  no  better  knowledge  than 
he  had  before,  if  so  good,  knowing  scarcely  more- than 
he  could  have  gleaned  from  "Baedecker"  without  going 
at  all,  or  with  previous  ideas  confused  and  befuddled  and 
out  of  plumb. 

[355] 


In  my  brief  journey  and  beshortened  sojourn  here 
and  there  I  endeavored  to  escape  the  too  common  mis- 
takes of  others.  I  avoided  the  high-priced  hostelries;  I 
rode  on  the  tops  of  omnibuses,  when  forced  to  ride  at 
all ;  bought  third-class  tickets  on  the  railways,  and  gave 
tips  only  when  a  real  service  had  been  rendered.  I  put 
up  at  "pensions,"  where  one  can  get  the  worth  of  his 
money,  and  bought  no  "antiques"  made  in  the  garrets  or 
back  rooms  of  the  vendors.  And  the  whole  expense  of 
my  trip  was  less  than  it  would  have  cost  me  to  remain 
and  live  in  accustomed  style  at  home. 

I  obtained  at  least  car-window  views  of  England, 
Ireland,  Scotland,  Wales  and  France,  visiting  the  capi- 
tals of  each,  and  seeing  about  all  that  was  worth  while 
in  London,  Edinborough,  Glasgow,  Dublin,  Belfast,  Lon- 
donderry, Manchester,  Leicester,  Holyhead,  Dover,  Ca- 
lais, Havre,  Windsor,  and  all  the  charming  environs  of 
Paris — St.  Cloud,  Fountainbleau,  Versailles,  St.  Denis, 
San  Germain-en-Laye,  Meudon  and  Robinson. 

I  wandered  through  the  catacombs  of  Paris,  where 
the  bones  of  six  million  persons  are  stacked  up  like  cord 
wood,  and  traversed  the  sewers,  over  the  identical  route 
taken  by  "Jean  Valjean." 

I  viewed  the  pictures  in  the  Louvre  and  the  Luxem- 
bourg, in  the  great  galleries  of  the  palace  at  Versailles, 
in  the  Chateau  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  in  the  old  salon  and 
the  new — until  every  picture  I  saw  looked  just  like  every 
other  picture.  I  saw  the  painters  decorating  the  ceilings 
of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  same  painters  who  had  been 
working  upon  the  same  pictures  for  twenty  years. 

I  saw  the  races  at  Longchamps  and  the  Battle  of 
Flowers  that  followed,  a  battle  in  which  seven  thousand 
vehicles,  filled  with  the  wealth  and  beauty  of  Paris,  threw 
bouquets  at  each  other,  until  the  ground  was  carpeted 
inches  deep  with  beautiful  blooms. 

[356] 


I  saw,  day  after  day,  the  endless  procession  of  costly 
equipages  moving  back  and  forth  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
and  on  the  Champs  Elysees,  between  the  "Little"  and 
the  "Big"  arc — the  Arche  de  Triomphe,  erected  to  com- 
memorate the  battles  of  Napoleon,  in  the  Place  d'Etoile, 
and  the  smaller  monument  telling  the  history  of  Gari- 
baldi's triumphs. 

I  visited  the  spots  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  where 
seven  thousand  French  men  and  French  women  gave 
their  heads  to  the  guillotine,  that  Liberty  might  survive. 

I  looked  through  narrow  bars  in  the  basement  of  the 
Cathedral  at  St.  Denis,  upon  the  very  coffins  of  once 
great  rulers,  and  I  for  a  moment  entered  the  narrow 
cell  in  which  the  hapless  Marie  Antoinette  was  confined, 
before  her  brutal  beheading,  in  the  Palais  de  Justice. 

I  visited  the  Hotel  de  Cluny  and  other  storehouses  of 
antique  relics,  wandered  about  the  gloomy  cloisters  of 
the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  shuddered  at  the  spectacle 
daily  disclosed  in  the  Morgue,  and  pondered  the  grue- 
some history  of  the  Bastile,  at  the  spot  where  once  it 
stood. 

I  was  amazed  at  the  storied  wonders  of  the  Biblio- 
theque  Nationale,  speculated  upon  the  architectural  mar- 
vels of  the  Grand  Opera  House,  stood  amazed  at  the 
stupendous  proportions  of  the  Eifel  Tower,  the  graceful 
lines  of  the  Trocadero ;  drove  dreamily  through  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne  and  the  great  forests  of  St.  Cloud,  St.  Ger- 
main and  Fountainbleau ;  lounged  in  the  beautiful  Pare 
Monceau,  and  watched  the  nimble-fingered  lace  makers 
at  work  in  the  park  made  for  them  by  Napoleon  at  Mont- 
marte. 

I  spent  many  happy  afternoons  steaming  up  and 
down  the  Seine  in  the  fast-flying  "cat"  boats,  or  in  circ- 
ling the  wondrous  city  in  comfortable  cars  of  the  Grand 
Centure  railway. 

[357] 


I  visited  the  National  printery,  and  found  my  fellows 
doing  the  work  for  the  republic  on  presses  that  were  in 
vogue  in  Ben  Franklin's  day. 

I  spent  an  afternoon  at  the  Musee  des  Archives, 
filled  with  wonderful  documents,  telling  the  history  of 
the  ages — the  Edict  of  Nantes  and  its  Revocation,  the 
detailed  history  of  the  trials  of  the  great  and  the  near 
great  during  the  French  Revolutionary  period,  before 
and  since. 

I  saw  the  exquisite  plastic  productions  of  the 
National  Pottery  Works  at  Sevres,  the  marvelous  crea- 
tions of  the  tapestry  plant  of  the  Goeblins,  the  scarcely 
less  wonderful  works  of  God  and  man  at  the  Jardin 
d'Acclimatacion. 

I  got  a  glimpse  of  French  peasant  life,  a  hint  of  how 
the  nobility  live,  saw  how  the  poor  eke  out  a  wretched 
existence  upon  what  the  American  workman  would 
waste  or  throw  away. 

I  was  allowed,  for  there  were  no  guards  to  deny 
admittance,  to  step  into  ataliers,  and  see  women  and 
men  pose  for  "The  Altogether,"  without  hint  of  mod- 
esty or  suggestion  of  shame. 

I  was  everywhere  treated  with  the  greatest  respect — 
everywhere  save  at  the  ministry  of  my  own  country,  the 
place  of  places  where  I  had  a  right  to  expect  the  greatest 
consideration.  There  I  was  compelled  to  go  on  business, 
and  was  told,  before  fairly  seated,  it  was  the  Minister's 
"busy  day" — and  I  bore  a  letter  from  James  G.  Elaine, 
Secretary  of  State !  The  incident  made  me  blush  for  my 
country — more,  it  made  me  mad. 

I  attended  a  funeral  at  the  Madelaine,  and  one  of 
those  curious  weddings  at  the  Maire's — a  wedding  of 
eight  couples,  belonging  to  the  working  classes,  brides 
and  grooms  in  clothes  they  could  not  afford  to  own,  and 
hired  for  the  day. 

[358] 


I  visited  several  of  the  Julian  schools,  where  an  aver- 
age of  seven  thousand  American  girls  and  young  men 
think  they  are  learning  to  be  artists. 

I  talked  with  mechanics  and  working  men  of  all 
grades,  and  learned  how  happy  and  contented  they  can 
be  on  something  less  than  nothing  a  day. 

I  saw  women  hitched  to  truck  wagons,  hauling  to 
markets,  in  the  early  morning  dawn,  loads  with  which 
in  America  we  scarcely  would  burden  a  horse. 

I  dropped  in  at  the  Bourse  and  witnessed  scenes  of 
frenzy  that  are  duplicated  every  day  on  the  New  York 
Stock  Exchange. 

I  was  permitted  to  visit  the  National  Assembly  and 
the  Senate,  and  observe  the  politeness  and  gentility  with 
which  French  Statesmen  call  each  other  thieves  and 
liars. 

I  viewed  with  admiration  the  French  arrangements 
for  handling  passengers  and  freight — the  devices  every- 
where adopted  for  preventing  accidents,  the  convenience 
and  safety  with  which  millions  are  welcomed  and  dis- 
.  patched  without  opportunity  for  getting  maimed  or 
killed. 

I  noted  how  easy  it  was  to  get  about  without  street 
cars,  where  the  omnibus  system  is  so  admirable — always 
a  seat  for  every  fare,  never  a  strap-hanger. 

I  marveled  at  the  comparative  cheapness  of  food 
^"oducts  at  the  great  markets,  although  everything  is 
bject  to  octroi  dues  at  the  barriers. 

I  observed,  with  satisfaction,  that  all  children  were 
onveyed  to  schools  in  vehicles  or  were  chaperoned  by 
eachers  or  nurses. 

I  noticed  that  newsboys  were  either  men  or  women, 
and  that  they  were  not  permitted  to  split  the  air  with 
their  raucous  jargon. 

I  saw  the  dignity  with  which  a  gendarme  arrested  a 

[359] 


petty  offender,  simply  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  sa- 
luting gracefully  with  his  sword,  returning  it  to  its  scab- 
bard, and  going  about  his  business,  the  person  appre- 
hended reporting  unattended  to  the  nearest  station ! 

It  was  inspiring  to  see  the  lawyers  don  cap  and  gown, 
at  once  upon  entering  the  Palais  de  Justice,  thus  indicat- 
ing their  respect  for  law. 

Five  minutes  after  my  introduction  to  the  Manager 
of  the  Anglo-American  Bank  he  handed  me,  unsolicited 
of  course,  a  cheque  for  a  year's  subscription  to  my  news- 
paper— so  polite  and  affable  those  French  bankers — and 
it  was  the  first  time  any  one  had  ever  paid  a  year's  sub- 
scription in  advance.  I  do  not  apprehend  he  ever  after, 
looked  at  my  newspaper. 

And  the  telegraph  department  of  the  Postoffice,  be- 
cause it  had  delayed  a  few  hours  the  delivery  of  a 
telegram,  returned  to  me  the  full  cost  of  sending  it  from 
London. 

I  had  many  pleasant  experiences  in  Paris,  saw  many 
interesting  things,  learned  many  valuable  things,  and 
brought  away  from  it  a  storehouse  of  memories — mem- 
ories that  will  endure. 

Then  I  went  up  to  London.  Having  gone  down  by 
way  of  Dover  and  Calais,  I  returned  by  way  of  Dieppe 
and  Newhaven,  always  figuring  upon  getting  the  most 
of  everything  for  my  money.  Both  crossings  of  the 
Channel  are  delightful.  One  can  get  as  "dippy"  going 
by  one  as  the  other,  for  the  English  Channel,  when  it 
so  desires,  can  beat  the  Atlantic  to  a  frazzle,  when  it 
comes  to  stirring  up  things. 

What  one  may  see  in  the  Metropolis  of  the  World, 
within  a  limited  period  of  time,  depends  largely  upon 
how  he  tries  to  see  it  and  who  shows  it  to  him.  It  was 
my  good  fortune  to  have  for  guide  a  young  man  to  the 
manor  born,  brought  up  and  educated  there.  This  per- 

[360] 


son,  Mr.  William  Rose,  Jr.,  was  the  son  of  a  man  who, 
for  forty  years,  had  been  Superintendent  of  Parcels  of 
the  London,  Chatham  and  Dover  Railway,  a  position 
corresponding  with  General  Freight  Agent  of  an  Amer- 
ican railway.  His  parents  lived  at  Brixton  Hill,  a  sub- 
urb on  the  Surrey  Side,  but  my  young  acquaintance  was 
a  commercial  traveler,  representing  a  Manchester  cotton 
house.  With  genuine  English  hospitality,  he  dropped 
his  work  for  the  time  being,  and  devoted  three  weeks 
to  showing  me  about  the  city. 

Aside  from  the  glimpse  I  got  of  English  home  life, 
which  this  brief  association  gave  me,  I  doubtless  saw 
more  of  London  in  three  weeks  than,  in  other  circum- 
stances, I  might  have  seen  in  as  many  months,  if  not 
years.  Most  of  it  I  saw  from  the  roofs  of  those  great 
omnibusses  that  radiate  from  "the  Bank"  and  penetrate 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  great  metropolis — an  un- 
surpassed and  unsurpassable  vantage  point. 

More  facile  pens  than  mine  have  utterly  failed  to 
paint  a  picture  of  London  that  can  be  understood  and 
appreciated.  Most  of  the  things  one  sees  are  not  visible. 
They  consist  of  memories.  With  wonderful  creations  of 
art  at  every  turn  in  the  road,  one  is  impressed  at  once 
with  the  lack  of  art  in  the  English  mind  and  in  the  Eng- 
lish hand.  There  is  everywhere  lacking  the  necessary 
perspective.  Take,  for  instance,  the  entrance  gate  to 
Euston  Station.  One  stumbles  onto  before  seeing  it, 
and  all  around  and  about  it  are  so  many  common,  if  not 
repulsive,  objects,  that  one  utterly  fails  to  grasp  the 
beauty  of  its  lines,  the  perfection  of  its  design,  the  com- 
pleteness of  its  finish.  It  is  a  beautiful  thing,  in  the 
wrong  place.  Only  those  see  it  at  all  who  have  occasion 
to  travel  by  the  Northwestern  railway,  and  then  one  is 
so  concerned  about  securing  a  seat  in  the  compartment 
sure  to  contain  one  more  than  it  will  hold,  and  to  get  his 

[861] 


"luggage"  put  into  the  right  van,  that  he  fails  to  recog- 
nize it  worth  while  to  miss  his  train  altogether  than  to 
lose  sight  forever  of  that  work  of  art,  surrounded  on  all 
sides,  and  almost  hidden  from  view,  by  cheap  hotels, 
freight  warehouses  and  sights  distinctly  commercial. 

This  is  but  a  sample.  The  Parisians  would  have  torn 
away  a  dozen  streets,  if  necessary,  to  show  that  archway. 

So  it  is  all  over  the  big  town.  That  greatest  of  all 
financial  institutions,  the  Bank  of  England,  from  with- 
out, is  a  distinct  disappointment  to  every  visitor.  Ap- 
parently a  rambling  one-story  structure  of  no  apparent 
great  dimensions,  dark  and  murky  and  gloomy — yet  cov- 
ering the  most  valuable  plot  of  ground,  probably,  in  the 
world.  In  New  York  it  long  ago  would  have  given  place 
to  a  forty-story  modern  sky-scraper — but  there  it  stands, 
just  as  it  stood  a  hundred  years  ago,  monument  to  the 
traditions  of  the  English. 

Then,  down  there  on  Fenchurch  Street,  I  was  taken 
to  a  former  palace,  to  see  where  Henry  VIII — "Bluff 
Hal" — used  to  warm  his  shins.  What  did  I  see?  Over 
the  mantel,  beneath  which  he  sat,  a  big,  bold  sign :  "Roast 
Beef."  Now,  whatever  effect  that  might  have  upon  the 
gastric  nerves,  wouldn't  it  be  likely  to  knock  every  par- 
ticle of  sentiment  out  of  your  composition? 

My  chaperon  told  me  that  just  below  my  window, 
across  the  street  from  my  hotel,  was  Old  Bailey  Prison, 
with  its  thousand  memories,  and  that  right  down  there 
Charles  I.  had  his  head  chopped  off. 

Of  course,  I  visited  the  National  Gallery,  and  saw 
Gainsboroughs  and  Joshua  Reynolds — I  saw  them  till 
two  o'clock — looked  at  them  until  really  I  should  not 
have  been  able  to  distinguish  a  Gainsborough  from  an 
auction  sign  or  a  moving-picture  show  announcement. 

Nelson's  monument  stands  out  boldly  enough  in  Tra- 
falgar Square,  and  extends  way  up  above  the  fog  line, 

[362] 


but  it  is  about  the  only  great  work  of  art  in  London  that 
the  British  have  given  room  enough  to  show  it  in. 

There  are  a  number  of  interesting  things  to  see  in 
the  Crystal  Palace,  objects  that  have  been  there  since 
1856,  and  which  the  English  wouldn't  move  a  foot  from 
where  they  were  originally  placed  under  any  combination 
of  circumstances — "twouldn't  do,  dontcher  know  ?" 

You  are  reminded  of  Prince  Albert  by  a  handsome 
figure  along  the  roadside  down  Hyde  Park  way,  but  you 
are  so  concerned  in  seeing  royalty  and  Americans 
driving  about  Rotten  Row  that  you  hardly  stop  to  look 
at  it. 

There  you  are  again — with  a  hundred  interesting 
historical  objects  being  pointed  out  to  you  at  once.  You 
scarcely  see  any  of  them.  Talk  about  your  moving- 
picture  shows!  There  is  one  for  you,  at  the  main  en- 
trance to  Hyde  Park.  All  the  world  moving  before  you 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  the  most  conspicuous  thing 
in  sight  is  somebody's  valet,  or  a  gorgeously  caparisoned 
beadle. 

Had  I  spent  two  months,  instead  of  two  hours,  in  the 
Tower  of  London,  I  might  have  come  away  with  an 
inkling  of  its  contents.  Two  hours  isn't  a  period  of  suf- 
ficient length  to  grasp  the  whole  history  of  England  and 
it  is  nearly  all  there. 

One  can  only  tarry  a  moment  in  the  cell  where  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  was  confined,  and  view  the  axe  with 
which  he  was  beheaded,  as  well  as  Queen  Anne  Boleyn, 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  Lord  Lovat,  Lord  Kilmanock,  and 
heaven  only  knows  how  many  other  troublesome  persons, 
for  one  is  reminded  there  are  other  things  to  see — the 
Armory  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  with  the  dented  block  upon 
which  queens,  rebels  and  courtiers,  met  their  fate;  the 
Bloody  Tower  wherein  two  princes  were  caused  to  be 
smothered  by  Richard ;  the  Devereux  Tower,  where  Es- 

[363] 


sex  was  confined,  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence  was  drowned 
in  a  butt  of  malmsy  wine;  the  White  Tower  and  the 
Beauchamp  Tower,  each  with  its  bloody  history. 

Less  gruesome,  more  cheerful  and  inspiring,  the  con- 
tents of  the  Regalia  room,  with  its  diamond-bedecked 
crowns,  its  ancient  arms,  rods,  scepters,  spurs,  bracelets, 
gems  worth  millions,  oh  so  many  millions  in  pounds  ster- 
ling, which  one  would  think  should  be  put  to  some  prac- 
tical use — to  feeding  the  poor  of  London,  if  nothing 
better  could  be  thought  of. 

It  is  a  great  privilege  to  view  the  wonders  of  the 
Tower  of  London.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  escape  from 
its  darksome  precincts,  step  across  the  moat,  and  out  into 
God's  glorious  sunshine ! 

Now  the  interior  of  the  Bank  of  England — that  is 
worth  while,  especially  if  you  are  properly  credentialed, 
as  I  was.  I  had  a  letter  from  J.  J.  Hagerman  to  Gov- 
ernor Lidderdale.  Mr.  Hagerman  was  the  American 
business  partner  of  the  Governor,  and  by  the  time  I 
reached  him  he  wasn't  the  Governor  at  all. 

"You  probably  know,"  he  said,  "that  the  rules  pro- 
hibit the  re-election  of  a  Governor.  Well,  precisely  365 
days  ago — we  were  just  recovering  from  the  Baring 
Bros,  failure.  The  Board  said  it  would  like  to  have  me 
hold  on  for  a  time  until  my  successor  should  pick  up  the 
threads.  Supposing  that  meant  for  a  few  weeks  at  most, 
I  consented,  and  so  I  have  served  a  second  year  with- 
out being  elected.  That's  the  way  we  English  get  over 
traditions.  I've  just  turned  the  Bank  over  to  my  suc- 
cessor, and  in  an  hour  I'm  off  for  the  continent.  Here 
is  a  list  of  the  heads  of  departments.  The  Beadle  will 
hand  you  from  one  to  another,  and  thus  you  will  see  as 
much  of  the  Bank  as  you  wish." 

The  Governor  was  as  plain  a  gentleman  as  one  could 
wish  to  see.  His  clothes  were  not  as  good  as  my  own. 

[364] 


But  the  Beadle!  Well,  I've  never  seen  anything 
quite  so  magnificent  in  my  life.  You  would  think  he 
owned  the  bank,  and  yet,  I  don't  suppose  his  salary  ex- 
ceeded two  pounds  six!  But  he  treated  me  with  the  dis- 
tinction of  an  Ambassador. 

I  saw  where  four  hundred  soldiers  were  housed  in 
the  basement,  mounting  guard  as  in  actual  warfare, 
waiting  for  attacks  on  the  bank's  gilded  horde,  that  never 
are  made. 

I  saw  the  great  scales,  so  large  they  are  manipulated 
by  steam  power,  and  yet  so  delicate  as  to  have  their  bal- 
ance effected  by  a  single  hair,  or  by  a  ray  of  sunlight. 
How  appropriately  these  balances  are  called  the  "Lord 
High  Chief  Justice." 

Then  there  was  placed  in  my  hand  a  single  bank  note 
drawn  for  a  million  pounds  sterling — five  millions  of 
dollars — and  the  largest  single  cheque  ever  drawn  on 
the  bank. 

Next  I  was  shown  a  fifty  pound  note  that  for  an  en- 
tire century  had  lain  in  a  sunken  vessel  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean. 

Lest  this  might  not  satisfy  my  curiosity,  I  was  per- 
mitted to  see  a  ten  pound  note  that  had  been  used  to 
patch  a  broken  pane  of  glass  in  a  hovel  in  Whitechapel. 
Obviously  the  party  using  it  for  so  profane  a  purpose 
had  never  seen  a  Bank  of  England  note,  and  didn't  know 
what  it  was. 

The  bank's  print  shop  interested  me  very  much.  It 
was  a  larger  plant  than  my  own,  and  yet  all  of  the  presses 
were  always  in  motion,  turning  out  stationery  for  the 
institution. 

Most  interesting  single  object  to  me  was  the  bank's 
autograph  albums.  The  custom  of  preserving  the  signa- 
tures of  distinguished  visitors  has  been  maintained  since 
the  bank  was  organized,  nearly  two  hundred  years  ago. 


[3651 


These  books,  now  numbering  hundreds,  contain  the 
names  of  emperors,  kings,  queens,  princes  and  potentates 
of  every  tongue  and  from  every  clime,  and  constitute 
a  most  interesting  study.  The  pages  are  about  eighteen 
inches  square;  in  the  center  of  each  is  pasted  a  genuine 
Bank  of  England  note — genuine  in  every  respect  other 
than  that  the  name  of  the  Governor  is  omitted.  The  line 
where  his  signature  should  appear  is  left  blank  for  that 
of  the  visitor,  so  that  each  signs  as  "Governor  of  the 
Bank  of  England."  It  is  a  pleasing  privilege  to  many 
to  so  sign,  though  it  looks  a  trifle  odd  to  see  on  some  of 
the  pages — "Benjamin  Franklin,  Governor  of  the  Bank 
of  England,"  or  "Sam  Newhouse,  Governor  of  the  Bank 
of  England,"  as  the  case  may  be. 

Any  one  may  visit  Parliament  House,  Westminster 
Abbey,  or  any  one  of  a  hundred  places  immortalized  by 
Dickens ;  but  it  is  a  rare  privilege  to  get  inside  the  Bank 
of  England,  and  see  all  of  its  interior  workings.  "I 
have  lived  in  London  fifty  years,"  said  the  elder  Rose  to 
me,  "but  I  should  hardly  know  how  to  get  into  the  Bank 
of  England." 

It  happened  to  be  quarterly  interest  day,  and  thou- 
sands were  there  collecting  interest  upon  their  consols. 
A  separate  individual  account  is  kept  with  every  holder 
of  a  government  bond,  a  system  involving  a  vast  amount 
of  detailed  labor;  but  that  is  the  way  it  always  has  been 
done,  and  so  it  must  be  done  to  the  end  of  time.  It  is 
British  to  adhere  to  ways  ancient. 

It  has  only  been  my  purpose  to  write  a  few  things 
seen  in  other  lands,  things  just  sufficiently  out  of  the 
ordinary  to  warrant  recounting  here. 

I  had  spent  a  week  in  "Edinboro  town"  and  a  few 
days  in  Glasgow,  and  I  was  able  to  take  a  glimpse  of 
"Ould  Ireland"  on  my  way  home. 

London  to  Hollyhead,  by  the  Northwestern  railway, 

[366] 


is  the  longest  journey  one  may  take  in  England,  about 
fourteen  hours. 

I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  stay  over  one  day 
at  Chester,  on  the  borders  of  Wales,  and  run  down  to 
Hawarden  Castle,  Gladstone's  country  place,  but  a  few 
miles  distant.  I  wanted  to  see  for  myself  if  there  were 
any  trees  left  standing  upon  it,  and  was  convinced.  All 
tourists  do  not  honor  Chester  with  a  call,  more's  the 
pity,  for,  besides  the  ancient  Cathedral,  there  are  many 
interesting  reminders  of  Caesar's  time  observable, 
among  other  things  a  bridge  built  by  the  Romans  before 
the  Christian  era,  as  safe  and  dependable  today  as  when 
built.  Such  things  speak  well  for  the  honesty  of  the 
early-day  contractors.  Signs  indicating  that  this  or 
that  establishment  was  inaugurated  five  hundred  or 
eight  hundred  years  ago  are  not  uncommon  in  the  streets 
of  Chester,  and  what  remains  of  the  ancient  wall  encom- 
passing "the  city  that  never  surrendered"  is  in  a  fair 
state  of  preservation. 

The  run  down  the  coast  to  the  Isle  of  Anglessy, 
towering  mountains  on  one  side,  a  placid  sea  on  the 
other,  is  an  indescribable  delight. 

And  at  Hollyhead  you  may,  as  did  I,  have  pleasing 
contact  with  a  typical  Welchman.  It  was  a  mile  or  more 
from  the  Mole  to  the  village;  my  trunk-strap  needed 
repair,  and  a  native  executed  the  commission.  "What 
is  the  charge?"  I  said,  prepared  for  a  hold-up  of  two 
shillings  at  least. 

"I  paid  a  tuppence  for  mending  the  strap,"  he  said, 
"and  I  would  like  a  penny  for  my  service!" 

Think  of  it!  a  penny,  two  cents,  for  a  two-mile 
tramp,  when  I  willingly  would  have  given  fifty  cents, 
nor  much  demurred  at  twice  the  sum. 

That  was  in  Wales,  dear  reader,  not  in  the  States ! 

Unless  one  wishes  to  see  all  of  the  breweries  and  dis- 

[367] 


tilleries,  a  day  is  sufficient  for  Dublin,  and  yet  all  the 
years  that  since  have  passed  have  not  sufficed  to  extin- 
guish the  memory  of  the  stench  that  rises  from  the  Liff  ey 
when  the  tide  is  out!  Dublin,  is,  or  was,  inexpressibly 
filthy.  It  is,  cr  was,  insufferably  nasty.  Its  streets  were 
unspeakably  dirty. 

A  visit  to  Dublin  Castle  was  interesting. 

A  ride  through  Phoenix  Park  was  a  delight. 

I  may  have  thought  it  a  joke  to  walk  over  the  grave 
of  Dean  Swift. 

I  am  sure  I  never  saw  a  sweeter  colleen  than  the  one 
who  at  the  hotel  waited  till  midnight  to  "turn  down  your 
bed,  Sir,"  an  ancient  and  very  beautiful  custom. 

But  I  felt  an  inexpressible  relief  when  I  had  prop- 
erly "done  Dublin/'  and  my  face  was  turned  to  the 
northeast  coast.  There  I  went  for  a  day,  to  see  a  con- 
vention of  ten  thousand  Irishmen,  at  Belfast,  protesting 
against  home  rule,  and  declaring  their  determination  to 
take  up  arms  against  an  Irish  parliament  at  Dublin.  It 
was  a  revelation  to  me — a  day  well  spent. 

Then  I  was  off  for  Londonderry,  where  a  tug  was 
waiting  to  take  passengers  down  the  river  and  to  the 
ocean,  where  lay  the  "City  of  Rome,"  one  day  out  from 
Glasgow,  steam  up,  ready  for  the  joyous  passage  home. 

Did  not  I  say  the  greatest  joy  of  a  trip  to  Europe  is 
the  home  coming ?  I  say  it  now!  I  swear  it! 

I  am  loathe  to  close  this  chapter  without  reference  to 
a  spectacle  witnessed  at  sea,  the  sublimity  and  grandeur 
of  which  impressed  me  as  nothing  in  nature  had  before 
or  since,  not  excepting  the  most  expansive  view  of  the 
Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado.  Our  vessel  had  made  an 
unprecedented  run  from  the  last  light  at  Tory  Island, 
off  the  North  Irish  coast,  and  the  passengers  were  felici- 
tating themselves  upon  the  probability  of  reaching  New 
York  ahead  of  schedule  time.  But  the  erratic  nature  of 

[368] 


the  sea  and  air  on  the  Grand  Banks  had  not  been  ad- 
equately discounted.  When  in  north  latitude  45.12,  west 
longitude  54.55,  we  found  ourselves  involved  in  a  fog 
of  extraordinary  blackness  and  immeasurable  density. 
It  hung  over  the  noble  vessel  like  a  pall,  stubbornly 
blocked  its  pathway,  pursued  it  like  a  Nemesis,  and 
forced  its  intangible  presence  into  every  open  port  and 
unprotected  hatch.  For  quite  twenty-four  hours  we 
were  thus  imprisoned  between  four  black  walls  that  came 
out  of  the  infinite  deep,  and  were  lost  in  infinite  space 
above.  Meanwhile,  the  ship's  log  made  a  most  discour- 
aging exhibit  of  distance  traversed,  scarcely  more  than 
half  the  previous  day's  record. 

All  night  long  the  fog  horn  sounded  its  weird  warn- 
ing to  possible  passing  vessels.  Only  for  a  moment  at  a 
time  would  the  Captain  surrender  his  place  on  the  bridge 
to  under  officer,  so  heavy  did  the  responsibility  for  the 
ship's  safety  rest  upon  him.  One  man's  eyes  were  as 
good  as  another's  in  such  an  atmosphere,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed, and  yet  the  master  seemed  unwilling  to  trust  any 
but  his  own  to  detect  approaching  lights,  were  any  craft 
so  unfortunate  as  to  be  caught  in  the  embrace  of  the 
insinuating  and  unyielding  enemy  of  navigation. 

But  a  greater  danger  menaced,  nor  was  it  necessary 
to  name  it  in  terms.  The  earnest  faces  of  the  chief  of- 
ficers, on  duty  or  off,  told  the  story  to  experienced  trav- 
elers who  asked  no  questions.  Those  who  were  making 
their  first  journey  across  the  great  deep  were  all  as  bliss- 
fully ignorant  of  what  was  transpiring  or  what  possibly 
might  happen  as  were  the  passengers  of  the  Titanic  be- 
fore the  fated  vessel  struck,  in  about  the  same  locality, 
twenty  years  later.  They  had  not  been  able  to  interpret 
the  language  of  the  little  lanterns  run  up  on  the  mast  of 
an  outgoing  steamer,  passed  the  night  before,  nor  could 
they  analyze  the  significance  of  the  steadily  falling  tem- 

[369] 


perature  of  the  sea  through  which  the  vessel  was  slowly 
plowing.  In  the  sea-worthiness  of  the  craft  itself,  and 
in  the  skill  and  fidelity  of  its  officers,  they  had  intuitively 
come  to  confide,  for  the  latter  were  sturdy  Scots,  whose 
magnificent  physique  and  lofty  bearing  admitted  of  no 
doubt,  forcing  unwilling  confidence  from  the  most  timid. 
Yet  the  strongest  heart  was  not  wholly  without  misgiv- 
ings, and  the  fact  that  midnight  came  without  material 
lessening  of  the  crowds  on  deck,  measured  the  anxiety 
of  all  classes. 

Nothing  save  the  cabin  clock  indicated  the  merging 
of  day  into  night.  Stygian  darkness  pervaded  every 
nook  and  cranny  of  the  vessel.  The  breaking  waves 
could  not  be  seen  a  ship's  length  ahead  of  her  prow.  The 
atmosphere  had  grown  perceptibly  colder,  the  water  was 
becoming  frigid.  Official  anxiety  increased  as  the  mer- 
cury fell,  for  the  season  was  almost  midsummer,  and  it 
intensified  as  it  reached  the  freezing  point. 

Thus,  with  alternating  hopes  and  fears,  upon  the 
part  of  all  aboard,  the  day  gradually  wore  away.  No 
single  ray  of  light  had  in  twenty-four  hours  pierced  the 
somber  pall  that  hung  over  the  Rome,  and  through  which 
passage  was  reluctantly  yielded. 

But,  glory  to  God,  deliverance  came  at  six  in  the 
evening,  in  the  grandest  transformation  mortal  eye  ever 
beheld.  Without  note  or  flash  of  warning,  and  appar- 
ently in  an  instant  of  time,  the  City  of  Rome  shot  out 
of  the  darkness  into  the  gorgeous,  dazzling,  effulgent 
light  of  a  matchless  sunset. 

The  fog  bank,  from  which  the  vessel  had  so  suddenly 
emerged,  was  cut  vertically  as  smooth  as  a  sharp  knife 
would  cut  a  fresh  dairy  cheese. 

Wonder  at  this  phenomenon  did  not  at  once  yield  to 
the  natural  explanation  of  it,  although  it  was  there, 
mountain  high,  and  fearfully  near.  Only  a  few  miles 

[370] 


from  the  lee  side  of  the  vessel  was  seen,  majestically 
riding  the  waves,  a  monster  iceberg,  variously  estimated 
from  half  to  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  length,  half  as 
wide  and  a  thousand  feet  high.  It  had  the  appearance 
of  a  gigantic  castle  upon  the  summit  of  a  lofty  hill,  its 
myriad  spires  and  pinnacles  and  domes  tipped  with 
golden  fire  from  the  sun  that  had  just  fallen  below  its 
loftiest  crest,  and  giving  to  its  more  massive  body  below 
a  softened,  lustrous  glow,  that  shifted  and  changed  as 
the  sun  dropped  lower  on  the  horizon,  and  its  rays  grad- 
ually penetrated  the  interior,  all  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow being  reflected  from  its  virgin  sides  and  slopes  and 
ambitious  pinnacles  stretching  upward  to  the  infiinite. 

The  spectacle  was  destined  soon  to  fade  away,  though 
I  fancy  it  will  live  forever  in  the  memory  of  those  who 
beheld  it.  After  many  years,  I  have  now  but  to  close  my 
eyes  to  see  it  again,  as  the  devout  and  longing  soul  of 
the  Christian  believer  fancies  he  sees,  in  times  of  trouble 
and  darkness,  the  gold-paved  streets  of  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem with  curbs  of  jasper  and  of  pearls. 

The  sun  soon  dropped  below  the  horizon,  the  celes- 
tial fires  faded  from  spires  and  pinnacles  and  domes  and 
buttresses  and  turrets,  and  the  crystal  palace  of  the  gods 
was  transformed,  almost  in  a  breath,  into  a  grim,  for- 
bidding monster,  bereft  of  beauty,  yet  grand  and  mag- 
nificent and  awe-inspiring,  quite  beyond  human  imagi- 
nation to  conceive  or  pen  to  describe. 

Had  the  officers  of  the  Titanic  possessed  a  modicum 
of  the  caution  exhibited  by  the  master  of  the  City  of 
Rome  on  this  occasion,  and  thought  more  of  the  safety 
of  its  passengers  than  of  a  record  run,  the  horror  of 
1912  would  never  have  darkened  the  pages  of  history. 


[371] 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  PRESS — ESSAY  IN  "POLITICAL 
PORTRAITS/'  BY  FITZ  MAC 

For  the  purpose  of  conveying  to  the  public  some  sage 
thoughts  that  shape  the  public  life  of  the  State,  which 
uttered  alone  in  the  form  of  essays  would  not  have  com- 
manded wide  attention,  the  late  James  MacCarthy 
("Fitz  Mac")  published  a  volume  of  "Political  Por- 
traits," in  1888,  using  the  names  of  twenty-two  more  or 
less  prominent  citizens  of  Colorado  to  represent  his  sev- 
eral themes,  taking  advantage  of  that  interest  always 
attaching  to  one  man's  opinion  of  another,  when  that 
opinion  is  candidly  expressed,  to  hold  the  popular  atten- 
tion. 

Thus,  an  article  on  Judge  Moses  Hallett  constituted 
an  essay  on  "Political  Ideals  and  the  Dangerous  Tend- 
ency to  Individualism,"  which  effects  the  upper  classes 
of  society ;  one,  on  Senator  Thos.  M.  Patterson,  an  essay 
on  "The  Political  Leader;"  one  on  "Haskell,  the  Social- 
ist," as  well  as  one  on  John  Hipp,  an  essay  on  "The  Po- 
litical Agitator;"  one  on  the  late  Rev.  Myron  Reed,  an 
essay  on  "The  Relations  of  the  Church  to  Politics ;"  one 
on  Carlyle  C.  Davis,  an  essay  on  "The  Influence  of  the 
Press;"  and  another  on  Hon.  F.  C.  Goudy,  an  essay  on 
"The  Influence  and  Value  of  Politics  as  a  School."  And 
so  on  through  the  list. 

The  author's  essay  on  "The  Influence  of  the  Press" 
would  seem  to  have  appropriate  place  in  this  volume, 
and  is  here  presented  without  further  explanation  or 
apology: 

[372] 


Nothing  added  to  nothing  makes  nothing.  Nothing 
multiplied  by  nothing  produces  nothing.  This  obvious 
bit  of  mathematical  philosophy  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  so  few  newspapers  today  have  any  considerable  di- 
rect influence  on  public  life;  also  for  the  fact  that  so 
few  newspaper  men  get  to  the  front  in  politics.  It  takes 
a  purpose  and  an  effort  to  produce  a  result.  Printer's 
ink  and  prepared  wood  pulp  no  more  make  a  newspaper 
than  flesh  and  blood  and  bone  make  a  man.  It  is  the 
spirit  within  which  makes  either  a  power.  It  is  intelli-. 
gence,  courage,  fortitude,  devotion  to  duty,  which  car- 
ries either  out  of  the  sphere  of  things  merely  physical 
and  transforms  it  into  a  moral  influence. 

No  stream  can  rise  above  its  fountain.  The  charac- 
ter of  no  newspaper  can  rise  above  the  character  of  the 
man  who  makes  it.  There  is  no  intelligence  in  wood 
pulp.  There  is  no  courage  in  printer's  ink.  There  is 
no  fortitude  in  type  metal.  There  is  no  self-devotion 
in  a  printing  machine.  It  is  the  spirit  which  makes  the 
man.  It  is  the  man  which  makes  the  newspaper.  The 
influence  of  each,  therefore,  depends  not  upon  flesh  and 
blood  and  bone,  not  upon  ink  and  wood  pulp  and  type 
metal,  but  upon  character.  It  is  not  a  question  of  the 
goodness  or  the  badness,  but  of  the  attractiveness,  the 
intensity,  the  individuality. 

This  is  an  age  of  averages,  an  age  which,  without 
repressing  the  individual,  promotes  the  mass.  It  is  the 
golden  age  of  mediocrity.  I  mean  what  I  say;  I  do  not 
mean  inferiority.  We  use  mediocrity  mostly  in  a  wrong 
sense.  I  mean  that  it  is  an  age  stronger  in  the  middle 
than  it  is  at  the  top.  The  genius  of  the  country  is  bent 
toward  the  meridian  line.  We  do  not  pull  down  from 
the  top,  but  we  pull  up  from  the  bottom,  and  we  keep 
the  center  of  force  near  the  middle.  This  is  what  gives 
us  stability.  This  is  what  imparts  such  a  ponderous  and 
irresistible  force  to  our  age  of  averages. 

We  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  say  that  the  press 
is  a  great  power.  It  were  better,  clearer,  more  definite, 
to  say  that  it  is  a  great  instrumentality.  Undoubtedly 
it  is  the  greatest  moral  instrumentality  of  the  age.  But 

[373] 


this  can  only  be  said  of  the  press  as  a  whole,  as  an  aver- 
age. Nothing  but  feebleness  can  come  of  feebleness, 
nothing  but  inanity  of  inanity.  It  is  undoubtedly  true 
that  there  never  was  a  time  when  the  average  of  the 
press  was  higher  than  today ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  there 
never  was  a  time  when  the  earth  was  encumbered  with 
a  greater  number  of  feeble  and  inane  newspapers.  The 
production  of  a  newspaper  has  degenerated  from  a  pro- 
fession into  a  business.  Its  motive  is  no  longer  ambition, 
but  greed.  Greed  is  a  universal  passion ;  ambition  is  not. 
So  that  while  the  press  has  broadened  the  base  of  its 
operations,  it  has  lost  the  tone  and  keenness  of  a  personal 
influence.  The  tendency  is  to  do  away  with  individu- 
ality. This  is  in  the  interest  of  gain,  in  the  interest  of 
stability,  but  against  concrete  and  recognizable  personal 
influence.  The  piquancy,  the  variableness  of  mood,  the 
strength,  the  weakness,  the  tides  of  attraction  and  re- 
pulsion— all  the  charm  of  personality — has  departed 
from  the  press.  This  is  in  the  interest  of  stability.  Edi- 
tors perish,  the  paper  survives.  But  in  losing  the  inde- 
finable charm  and  influence  of  a  personality,  the  press 
has  acquired  the  stability  of  an  institution.  It  is  no 
longer  the  newspaper,  but  the  newspapers,  in  which  the 
power  abides.  As  in  mechanics,  when  we  gain  power,  we 
lose  speed.  So  in  the  newspaper,  when  we  abate  a  little 
of  individuality  and  conviction,  we  gain  a  good  deal  in 
stability.  This  is  all  toward  the  average  and  against 
personal  influence.  Yet  there  never  was,  and  there 
never  can  be,  a  greatly  influential  paper  in  the  world 
without  some  strong  individuality  behind  it — some  in- 
itial and  seminal  mind  impressing  a  personal  character 
and  identity  upon  it.  The  character  of  the  newspapers 
today  is  a  business  character,  because  the  strongest  per- 
sonality behind  the  paper  is  the  business  manager.  Nat- 
urally, he  subordinates  everything  else  to  the  success  of 
his  own  department.  The  paper  thereby  gains  stability, 
but  loses  power.  It  may  reach  more  readers,  for  that  is 
the  business  man's  strong  point;  but  it  does  not  stir  the 
souls  of  those  who  read  it,  because  it  is  written  without 
conviction  and  without  enthusiasm.  The  circulation  is 

[374] 


increased,  not  by  the  talent  of  the  editor,  but  by  the 
genius  of  the  canvasser.  The  motive  of  the  whole  enter- 
prise, if  I  may  reiterate,  is  business  and  not  ambition. 
It  should  not  be  surprising,  therefore,  that  nothing  is 
achieved  in  a  direction  where  nothing  is  attempted. 
Nothing  in  the  purpose  of  the  management,  multiplied 
by  nothing  in  the  individuality  of  the  writing  staff,  gives 
a  product  of  nothing  in  the  influence  of  the  newspaper  on 
public  life.  The  papers  of  today  follow  their  main  mo- 
tive intelligently  and  successfully,  but  that  motive  is 
profit;  consequently  the  best  talent  employed  goes  to  the 
business  department.  This  is  why  the  press  has  become 
a  more  stable,  if  less  admirable,  institution,  than  in  for- 
mer times.  If  weak  at  the  top,  it  is  strong  in  the  middle, 
so  that  the  force,  if  less  immediately  effective,  is  more 
constant.  It  is  all  in  the  line  of  the  average — the  line  of 
intelligent  and  substantial  mediocrity. 

There  are  not  above  a  dozen  newspapers  in  the  whole 
country — among  the  dailies  I  mean — that  ever  originate 
any  thought  which  affect  public  action.  The  rest  merely 
produce  it,  as  the  journeyman  potter  reproduces  the 
matchless  forms  of  Greek  art  in  western  clay.  But  in  the 
attractive  production  of  news  the  ingenuity  of  the  press 
today  is  boundless.  And  let  a  thought,  however  small 
and  modest,  be  dropped  into  the  columns  of  a  paper  to- 
day, and  the  watchful  genius  of  the  press  catches  it  up 
and  reiterates  it  with  a  thousand  voices.  If  you  have 
the  run  of  an  exchange  list,  you  find  it  reflected  in  a 
thousand  sheets.  It  reverberates  through  the  country 
like  the  echoes  of  a  shot  fired  among  the  mountains. 

No  individual  newspaper  today  is  much  of  a  power 
in  Colorado  politics,  but  the  cumulative  influence  of  all 
is  enormous.  There  are  something  like  two  hundred 
papers  published  in  the  State.  Only  a  few  of  them  orig- 
inate anything.  Only  a  few  of  them  even  have  any  con- 
siderable local  influence,  yet  all  taken  together  and  ani- 
mated by  an  earnest  conviction,  they  constitute  a  power, 
which  is  simply  irresistible. 

A  composite  picture,  expression  or  illustration  of  the 

[375] 


qualities  which  animate  and  inform  the  press  of  Colo- 
rado would  more  nearly  represent  Carlyle  C.  Davis  than 
any  other  member  of  what  we  term  "the  press  gang." 
He  is  the  owner  and  responsible  editor  of  the  Leadville 
Evening  Chronicle  and  the  Morning  Herald  Democrat. 

For  a  brief  period,  three  years  ago,  I  was  the  hired 
editor  of  both  of  his  papers.  I  ought,  therefore,  to  know 
him  pretty  well.  I  consider  him  the  ablest  all-round 
newspaper  man  in  the  State.  There  is  hardly  a  quality 
in  which  he  has  not  some  superiors,  but  I  know  of  none 
who  combines  so  many  of  the  qualities  that  contribute 
to  the  efficiency  of  a  journalist.  How  he  has  missed  be- 
coming a  great  public  influence  is  a  matter  not  easy  to 
explain.  It  is  certain  that  he  is  not,  and  it  is  equally 
certain  that  he  possesses  those  qualities  of  mind  which 
contribute  to  render  men  personally  influential.  But  he 
has  been  running  his  papers  for  profit,  and  not  for  am- 
bition. 

He  is  as  bright  as  a  new  dollar.  He  has  a  dauntless 
courage,  unequalled  capacity  for  application,  exhaustless 
physical  endurance,  a  most  ingratiating  address,  a  loyal 
and  lovable  nature,  an  alert  intelligence,  and  unblem- 
ished business  honor. 

No  one  can  see  how  really  smart  he  is  in  business, 
and  not  wonder  that  he  is  not  a  millionaire  and  the  man- 
ager of  a  great  railroad. 

No  one  can  see  his  very  exceptional  cleverness  in 
political  matters,  and  not  wonder  why  he  is  not  one  of 
the  greatest  political  influences  of  the  State.  I  could 
not  name  six  men  in  Colorado  so  capable  as  Davis  in  the 
mere  manipulation  of  politics.  His  natural  skill  in  this 
regard  is  really  great.  He  is  a  ready  and  capable  writer, 
but  somehow  he  fails  to  make  the  impression  of  an  able 
writer. 

When  moved  by  a  strong  conviction,  I  know  of  no 
journalist  in  the  State  who  can  turn  off  a  more  forcible 
article,  and  he  never  lacks  the  courage  to  print  it. 

He  is  personally  a  most  likable  fellow,  and  he  is 
wonderfully  devoted  in  his  friendships,  yet  he  has  al- 

[376] 


ways  missed  being  generally  popular.  He  has  a  quick 
instinct  for  finances,  and  with  the  most  remarkable  op- 
portunities of  the  decade  surrounding  him,  he  has  missed 
making  a  fortune.  With  every  endowment  of  nature 
that  goes  to  the  making  of  a  remarkably  smart  man,  he 
has  missed  achieving  distinction  as  such. 

We  see  men,  sometimes  successful  and  exalted  in 
public  favor,  with  a  reputation  for  ability,  about  whom 
we  can  discover  no  substantial  basis  for  success.  Ex- 
actly the  opposite  is  true  of  Davis.  In  business  he  is 
honorable,  shrewd,  industrious,  watchful  and  eminently 
liberal,  yet  all  his  efforts  have  only  enabled  him  to  ac- 
quire a  very  modest  little  fortune. 

In  politics  he  is  capable  and  faithful,  yet  he  has  never 
secured  the  recognition  in  public  favor  to  which  one 
would  say  his  fine  abilities  entitled  him. 

In  journalism  his  reputation  has  never  been  com- 
mensurate with  his  capacity.  His  cleverness  is  so  dis- 
tinct, his  information  so  full,  and  his  mind  so  remark- 
ably ready,  that  I  always  felt  myself  to  be  slow  and  dull 
in  his  presence.  His  manners  are  so  kind,  so  elegant 
and  so  intelligent,  that  I  always  feel  a  little  clumsy  and 
boorish  when  he  is  near  me.  It  has  always  seemed  to 
me  that  if  I  were  as  smart  as  Davis  I  could  be  the  first 
journalist  in  America,  yet  he  is  not  even  the  first  jour- 
nalist in  Colorado,  though  he  is  probably  the  most 
capable  all-round  newspaper  man  in  the  State.  He 
knows  every  detail  of  the  business,  from  writing  a  good, 
forcible  editorial  to  setting  it  up  at  the  case,  making  it 
up  in  the  form,  and  working  it  off  on  any  kind  of  print- 
ing machine  made. 

Luck  is  a  large  element  in  every  life.  Successful 
men  take  the  credit  to  themselves  of  having  created  the 
circumstances  that  made  them.  Those  who  fail  are  will- 
ing to  leave  the  credit  to  fate. 

Financially,  Davis  had  the  luck  to  be  wrecked  in  the 
shallows  just  after  he  had  caught  the  tide  of  fortune  at 
its  flood  and  started  off  with  all  sails  to  the  wind.  But 
the  man  is  not  a  failure.  Reckoned  from  where  he 

[377] 


started  financially,  he  is  more  than  a  moderate  success. 
Reckoned,  however,  from  the  base  line  of  his  abilities, 
his  life  is  a  disappointment. 

I  cannot  quite  account  for  it,  for  he  is  one  of  the  most 
capable  men  I  have  ever  known. 

It  has  often  seemed  to  me,  in  looking  over  men,  that 
completeness  of  the  faculties  is  not  what  counts  in  the 
production  of  character.  Men  seem  to  grow  strongest 
when  they  grow  a  little  one-sided.  Not  that  Davis  is 
unique  in  his  completeness.  I  can  see  many  reasons  why 
he  is  not  the  first  writer  on  the  State  press.  One  is  that 
he  has  not  tried  to  be.  It  will  hardly  be  necessary  to 
mention  the  rest.  He  is  a  thoroughly  bright  and  capable 
editorial  commentator.  But  an  editor  of  the  first-class 
he  never  could  be,  because  his  mind,  with  all  its  com- 
pleteness, lacks  that  seminal  quality  which  gives  life  to 
thought  and  makes  it  grow  as  it  is  scattered.  In  politics 
he  lacks  toleration  and  patience.  Though  always  ready 
to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  friends,  he  is  self-willed  and 
jealous  of  any  divided  friendship.  There  is  no  trouble 
he  would  not  take  for  a  man  so  long  as  the  man  gives 
him  an  undivided  heart ;  but  the  fellow  that  wants  Davis 
to  help  him  should  keep  away  from  the  other  paper. 
There  is  no  end  to  his  generosity.  He  is  an  appreciative 
man  himself,  and  he  likes  to  be  appreciated.  He  does 
not  at  all  lack  the  courage  to  be  unpopular,  but  he  is  too 
anxious  for  approval  to  endure  the  least  reproach  with 
patience.  In  a  word,  he  lacks  the  composure  of  spirit 
without  which  any  man  must  be  miserable  in  a  public 
station.  The  only  approval  an  editor  or  a  politician 
should  allow  himself  to  require  is  the  approval  of  his 
own  reason.  Otherwise,  there  is  nothing  but  torture 
before  him.  The  mind,  serenely  conscious  of  its  own 
strength,  finds  itself  able  to  yield  without  discomposure 
or  less  self-confidence.  Too  much  of  Davis'  strength 
is  dissipated  in  fretful  resistance  to  inconsiderable 
things.  He  is  a  man  who  can  be  knocked  down  with  a 
feather  when  he  cannot  be  driven  with  a  club.  Any  ap- 
peal to  his  generosity  will  succeed ;  any  appeal  to  his  fear 
will  always  fail.  With  the  courage  of  a  lion,  the  tenacity 

[378] 


of  a  bull-dog,  and  the  stubbornness  of  a  mule,  he  has  a 
sensitive  spirit  that  quivers  under  reproach.  Without 
having  exactly  the  reach  and  composure  of  the  truly 
executive  mind,  Davis  has  the  executive  perception  and 
the  executive  tenacity  of  purpose.  He  seems  to  lack  that 
enlightened,  far-seeing  instinct  which  we  call  sagacity. 
That  is,  we  call  it  sagacity  when  it  succeeds.  We  may 
call  it  imbecility  when  it  fails.  After  all,  it  is  a  matter 
of  looking  wise  and  taking  your  chances. 

With  Davis*  unusual  cleverness  in  politics,  it  is  rather 
a  wonder  he  has  not  gotten  to  Congress.  But,  again, 
nothing  can  come  of  nothing.  He  has  not  tried  to  get 
there. 

His  mind  is  as  swift  as  a  dart.  He  is  a  courageous 
and  forcible  speaker,  and  a  capital  parliamentarian.  He 
is  exactly  the  quality  of  man  that  would  make  a  valuable 
Congressman  from  such  a  State  as  ours,  and  it  is  be- 
cause I  think  he  may  be  a  candidate  before  many  years 
that  I  hang  this  portrait  up  for  public  view.  He  is  be- 
coming pretty  well  known  to  the  politicians  of  the  State, 
and  has  given  us  two  or  three  examples  of  his  ability  to 
handle  himself  in  a  political  effort.  His  courage  and  par- 
liamentary skill  in  getting  the  resolution  on  the  manage- 
ment of  the  State  Treasury  before  the  last  State  Con- 
vention, against  the  united  efforts  of  the  machine,  was 
a  master  piece  in  instance,  which  entitles  him  to  the  con- 
fidence of  politicians  who  are  looking  for  a  man  to  tie  to, 
as  it  also  entitles  him  to  the  earnest  admiration  and  grat- 
itude of  the  Republican  party. 

That  the  party  wanted  the  resolution  was  unequiv- 
ocally demonstrated  by  the  wild  enthusiasm,  and  almost 
perfect  unanimity,  with  which  the  convention  adopted  it, 
when  he  skillfully  introduced  it  in  the  shape  of  an  amend- 
ment, to  prevent  the  machine  from  referring  it  to  the 
committee  on  resolutions,  where  it  was  sure  to  be 
smothered. 

It  was  a  brave  act,  and  the  people  should  keep  it  in 
mind.  Nine-tenths  of  the  members  of  that  convention 
knew  the  moral  necessity  and  the  political  expediency 
of  adopting  such  a  resolution  as  well  as  Davis  did,  but 

[379] 


he  was  the  only  man  who  had  the  courage  to  offer  it, 
under  the  frowns  and  threats  of  the  gang  who  constitute 
the  machine.  He  demonstrated  how  little  a  machine 
amounts  to  when  intelligently  and  defiantly  encountered. 
That  act  showed  that  Davis  has  a  genuine  capacity  for 
political  leadership,  and  I  confidently  look  to  see  him  be- 
come a  political  leader.  He  is  now  only  forty  years  of 
age.  At  the  age  of  eleven  he  was  apprenticed  to  the 
printer's  trade.  He  enlisted  while  still  hardly  more 
than  a  child,  and  served  in  the  campaigns  of  Tennessee 
and  Mississippi.  After  the  close  of  the  war  he  traveled 
over  the  country,  working  at  his  trade  in  various  cities, 
and  gaining  that  intimate  knowledge  of  the  newspaper 
business,  as  it  is  conducted  in  town  and  country,  which 
makes  him  today  such  an  unusually  ready  and  capable 
journalist.  While  most  boys  are  still  at  school,  he  settled 
at  Cincinnati,  where  he  remained  six  years  on  the  En- 
quirer, Chronicle  and  Times,  and  in  1872  bought  the 
Cosmos  at  St.  Charles,  Mo.,  the  oldest  paper  in  the  State, 
which  he  edited  until  1876,  when,  broken  in  health,  he 
came  to  Colorado  to  recuperate.  After  living  out  among 
the  sheep  and  cattle  ranches  for  a  season,  he  assumed 
the  editorial  management  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  News, 
and  it  was  his  fortune  to  edit  the  last  issue  of  that  paper 
as  a  Republican  journal.  He  remained  with  it  as  news 
editor,  after  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Democrats, 
until  the  fall  of  1878,  when  he  went  to  Leadville  and 
established  the  Evening  Chronicle. 

The  camp  was  at  that  time  at  the  flood  tide  of  its 
fabulous  career,  and  he  made  money  with  incredible 
rapidity.  In  three  years  he  had  made  over  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  and  was  on  the  high  road  to  wealth,  when  the 
failure  of  the  City  National  Bank  brought  him  to  his 
knees. 

He  was  one  of  the  original  locators  of  the  town  sites 
of  Aspen  and  Glenwood  Springs.  His  interest  in  these 
enterprises  alone  would  have  made  him  a  rich  man,  if 
he  could  have  held  on,  but  he  was  obliged  to  let  go  before 
they  came  to  anything. 

Nothing  but  the  most  indomitable  pluck  enabled  him 

[380] 


to  keep  his  legs  after  the  staggering  blow  of  the  bank 
failure,  but  his  fine  conduct  in  that  unhappy  scrape  com- 
manded the  admiration  of  all  classes  in  the  camp  and 
enabled  him  to  tide  over  his  difficulties. 

In  1883  he  bought  the  Democrat,  and  since  that  time 
has  run  two  daily  papers  and  a  large  weekly.  For  a 
man  in  his  position,  and  of  his  ability,  he  has  not  inter- 
ested himself  much  in  politics,  though  whenever  he  has 
gone  in  earnestly  he  has  invariably  been  successful.  He 
was  elected  City  Clerk  in  1882,  and  in  1883  was  ap- 
pointed Postmaster.  In  1884  he  was  chosen  delegate-at- 
large  to  the  National  Republican  convention  at  Chicago. 
In  1885  he  acquired  the  Morning  Herald,  and  consol- 
idating it  with  the  Democrat,  obtained  a  monopoly  of  the 
newspaper  and  printing  business  of  the  camp.  He  is 
now  in  a  more  prosperous  condition  than  for  five  or  six 
years  past,  and  I  think  we  may  expect  to  hear  of  him  in 
public  life  before  he  is  much  older.  He  would  be  a  most 
useful  and  available  man.  He  can  point  to  his  record 
without  a  blush.  When  the  financial  collapse  which 
wrecked  three  of  the  Leadville  banks  in  quick  succession 
came  in  1883,  he  was  made  President  of  the  City 
National.  He  had  the  honor  to  set  himself  like  a  rock 
in  defense  of  the  creditors,  and  the  institution  has  paid 
every  man  in  full  except  its  own  officers.  That  is  a 
record  that  no  man  need  fear  to  go  into  politics  with. 


Subjected  to  the  test  crucible  of  analytical  examina- 
tion, Fitz  Mac's  "Portrait"  would  seem  to  lack  consist- 
ency. So  "bright"  a  person  as  he  describes,  surrounded 
by  the  opportunities  of  a  century,  surely  ought  not  to 
have  missed  all  of  them,  failed  to  amass  a  fortune,  kept 
out  of  the  Senate,  never  reached  the  executive  chair  of 
a  great  railroad,  or  become  a  great  public  influence.  But 
whereas  the  author  concedes  his  inability  to  understand 
it,  to  me  the  reasons  are  very  simple,  and  that  the  young- 
er reader  may  profit  from  the  lesson,  I  shall  enumerate 
a  few  of  them. 

[381] 


I  erred  in  not  using  other  people's  money  in  fortify- 
ing my  position  before  it  was  seriously  menaced. 

I  was  over  jealous  of  the  independence  of  my  papers 
and  shrank  from  compromising  that  independence  by  be- 
coming a  debtor. 

I  was  too  strongly  obsessed  with  the  belief  that  I  had 
a  "mission,"  and  that  it  was  to  attack  wrong,  and  wrong- 
doers, wherever  and  whenever  encountered,  wholly  re- 
gardless of  consequences  to  myself. 

I  was  too  apprehensive  that  my  motives  would  be 
misconstrued. 

I  was  too  zealous  in  the  public  interest.  I  was  not 
content  to  commit  the  public  safety  to  its  paid  guardians 
and  natural  protectors.  My  policy  was  too  aggressively 
bold  and  too  often  impolitic.  I  ever  found  myself  doing 
those  things  that  militated  against  the  interests  of  my 
newspapers. 

I  fought  the  placer  trust,  the  duty  of  the  courts, 
when  it  would  gladly  have  purchased  my  silence. 

I  jeopardized  my  life  and  property  by  maintaining 
a  running  fight  against  gamblers,  thugs  and  bunko- 
steerers,  clearly  the  duty  of  the  peace  officers  and  the 
militant  moralists  of  the  pulpit. 

I  unnecessarily  antagonized  an  influential  body  of 
mining  men,  by  publishing  news  of  mineral  discoveries 
in  their  properties  before  they  were  ready  to  have  the 
announcements  made — before  they  had  bought  off,  run 
away  or  frozen  out  the  poor  owners  of  surrounding  ter- 
ritory. 

I  bitterly  opposed  the  payment  of  a  million  dollar 
municipal  debt,  fraudulently  created,  when  my  silent  ap- 
proval would  have  cemented  the  friendship  of  the  war- 
rant and  bond  sharks. 

I  antagonized  some  of  the  railways,  liberal  news- 
paper patrons,  by  insisting  upon  lower  freight  rates. 

[382] 


I  fought  the  State  treasury  ring  and  the  State  land 
board  grafters,  when  to  wink  at  their  plundering 
schemes  would  have  made  me  partner  in  the  division  of 
the  swag. 

I  opposed  the  wholesale  robbery  of  the  people  by 
grafting  boards  of  supervisors,  who  cheerfully  would 
have  "whacked  up"  with  me. 

I  made  myself  too  conspicuous  in  my  championship 
of  law  and  order  when  organized  strikers  were  terroriz- 
ing the  community. 

I  displeased  a  clique  of  crooked  bankers,  by  exposing 
their  villainous  methods. 

I  fought  to  a  finish  and  whipped  to  a  frazzle  a  coterie 
of  schemers  who  sought  to  drain  Twin  Lakes,  one  of  the 
most  charming  resorts  on  earth,  in  the  interest  of  a  gi- 
gantic irrigation  scheme. 

I  scorned  to  accept,  as  free  gifts,  blocks  of  stock  in 
mining  companies,  for  the  use  of  my  name  on  their 
boards  of  directors. 

In  one  morning  and  three  afternoon  editions  of  my 
papers  I  roasted  grafters  of  high  and  low  degree,  ex- 
posing schemes  to  fleece  the  tax-payers  at  home  and  in- 
vestors in  mining  shares  elsewhere. 

I  forced  the  adoption  of  laws  to  protect  legitimate 
practitioners  of  medicine  and  ran  the  quacks  out  of 
town. 

It  was  truthfully  said  that  my  papers  were  the  only 
ones  in  the  State  "owned  by  their  owner" — all  the  rest 
were  either  owned  or  controlled  by  corporations  or  by 
some  one  desiring  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate. 

It  is  easy  to  see  why  I  was  not  "generally  popular," 
easy  to  see  why  I  did  not  make  a  barrel  of  money,  easy 
to  see  why  my  life  was  a  "disappointment" — for  such  it 
was  if  the  acquirement  of  power — political  or  financial — 
be  the  proper  and  chief  aim  of  existence. 

[383] 


No  man  can  persistently,  day  after  day,  week  in  and 
week  out,  throughout  a  long  term  of  years,  run  con- 
trary to  the  human  tides,  and  expect  to  escape  getting  his 
feet  wet. 

As  far  as  relates  to  the  deliberate  pursuit  of  policy, 
I  probably  should  not  do  differently  were  the  opportunity 
for  a  repetition  afforded  me.  But  as  to  mistakes,  due  to 
lack  of  education,  of  experience  and  of  judgment,  that 
is  another  matter.  I  have  related  how  I  missed  becoming 
a  millionaire  by  my  failure  to  take  up  an  option  on  a 
slice  of  the  Robert  E.  Lee  mine. 

Only  a  short  time  after  that  I  missed  becoming  a 
multi-millionaire  by  letting  go,  at  the  wrong  time,  my 
fourth  interest  in  the  wonderful  mineral  springs  and 
townsite  of  Glenwood,  in  Garfield  County.  I  had  as- 
sociated myself  with  the  Blake  Brothers  and  W.  S. 
Shannon,  a  lawyer,  in  locating  these  marvelous  proper- 
ties, upon  which  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  have 
since  been  spent  in  improvements  in  the  way  of  hotels, 
bath  houses  and  swimming  pool,  and  a  town-site  upon 
which  a  fair  city  of  ten  thousand  subsequently  sprang 
up  and  sprang  out,  not  to  mention  mining  claims  almost 
without  number,  and  then  let  the  princely  holding  pass 
from  my  possession  for  a  song,  an  act  due  to  sheer  stu- 
pidity, for  want  of  a  more  appropriate  name. 

Then,  only  thirty  miles  distant,  I  joined  Governor 
Tabor  and  a  number  of  others,  in  locating  a  town  site  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Roaring  Fork,  to  which  we  gave  the 
high  sounding  title  of  "Roaring  Fork  City."  We  se- 
cured a  postoffice,  and  the  place  at  once  became  the  out- 
fitting point  for  a  wide  mineralized  section.  But  men 
with  greater  sagacity  started  another  town,  a  mile  nearer 
the  mines,  and  there  fifteen  thousand  people  gathered 
and  joined  in  making  "Aspen"  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  prosperous  mining  cities  in  the  land.  Within  a  year 

[384] 


H.    G.    BRAIXERD.    M.  D. 

Chief    Nerve    Specialist    of 

the   Pacific   Coast 

EUGENE    FIELD 

Author,    Poet,    Humorist, 

Dramatist 


CHARLES    VIVIAN 
Founder  of  the  Benevolent  Pa- 
triotic   Ord«r    of    Elks 

SEE  LEY    W.    MUDD 
American     Association     of 
Mining  Engineers,   Represen- 
tative Guggenheim   Syndicate 


there  was  not  a  single  inhabitant  left  in  our  "Roaring 
Fork  City." 

Missed  millions  again — and  by  a  mile!  Really 
"smart"  men  are  not  in  the  habit  of  making  such  egre- 
gious blunders  as  are  here  mentioned. 


[385] 


CHAPTER  LXVL 

MY  RELATIONS  WITH  THE  PRESS  GANG — 'GENE  FIELD 
AND  His  ECCENTRICITIES 

My  acquaintance  with  what  in  shop  parlance  is 
known  as  the  "press  gang"  included  every  prominent 
person  engaged  in  newspaper  work  in  Colorado  from 
1876  to  1896.  My  relations  with  them  were  uniformly 
agreeable,  in  numerous  instances  decidedly  congenial, 
and  in  a  few  cases  distinctly  friendly.  With  a 
single  exception,  briefly  noted  elsewhere  in  this  volume, 
I  never  engaged  in  a  newspaper  controversy  with  a  con- 
temporary or  permitted  my  papers  to  be  used  as  vehicles 
for  personal  abuse  of  those  engaged  in  the  trade.  I  am 
rather  proud  of  the  record,  because  I  have  had  abundant 
provocation  for  bitter  newspaper  warfare. 

My  most  intimate  associates  among  the  journalists  of 
Colorado  were  Kemp  G.  Cooper,  for  many  years  mana- 
ger of  the  Rocky  Mountain  News  and  the  Denver  Re- 
publican; Ben  Steele,  the  talented  editor  of  the  Colorado 
Springs  Gazette;  Captain  J.  L.  Lambert,  founder  of  the 
Pueblo  Chieftain;  Col.  John  Arkins  and  James  M.  Bur- 
nell,  my  associates  in  establishing  the  Leadville  Chron- 
icle; Ellis  Meredith,  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  News;  Mr. 
O.  H.  Rothacker,  the  brilliant  editor  of  the  Denver  Trib- 
une; Fred  Skiff,  business  manager,  Eugene  Field,  the 
gifted  literary  contributor  to  the  same  journal  during 
the  eighties;  and  Sam  D.  Goza.  Will  Irwin,  famed  cor- 
respondent and  author,  was  only  then  preparing  for  his 
subsequent  brilliant  career. 

While  writing  this  paragraph  I  am  filled  with  wonder 

[386] 


that  I  should  class  Eugene  Field  as  an  intimate  friend, 
since  I  fail  to  recall  any  single  act  of  kindness  ever  done 
me  by  that  irritating  and  erratic  genius,  whereas  I  easily 
might  fill  a  volume  with  scurrilous  stuff  he  has  printed 
about  me,  without  hint  at  provocation.  He  belonged, 
however,  to  a  small  and  privileged  class,  who  could,  with 
perfect  impunity  and  wholly  without  fear  of  reprisal,  do 
the  most  atrocious  things,  for  which  another  might  have 
been  shot  or  hanged. 

Field's  fame  rests  upon  the  delightful  verse,  with 
childhood  as  the  theme,  with  which  he  graced  American 
literature.  "Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod,"  "Little  Boy 
Blue,"  and  poems  in  the  same  vein  scarcely  without  num- 
ber, doubtless  will  long  cause  his  name  to  be  remembered 
appreciatively  in  every  American  household.  "The  Lit- 
tle Peach"  will  continue  to  "grew;"  "Casey's  Table 
d'Hote,"  Modjesky  as  Cameel,"  and  "The  Clink  of  the 
Ice,"  will  endure.  His  posthumous  fame  will  rest  largely 
upon  his  contributions  to  contemporaneous  literature 
while  living  in  Chicago  and  contributing  a  column  daily 
to  The  News  of  that  city. 

His  career  in  Colorado  was  a  joke,  and  a  huge  joke 
at  that.  And  always  he  was  the  joker.  Those  whose 
acquaintance  with  him  is  confined  to  his  published 
poems,  mainly  written  in  the  later  years  of  his  life,  and 
after  he  had  surrendered  his  ambition  to  become  the 
champion  wine  bibber  of  the  century,  will  scarcely  be 
prepared  to  believe  the  stories  I  feel  impelled  to  relate 
here  about  him,  but  all  of  them  are  so  true  that  the  ac- 
curacy of  no  single  item  will  be  questioned  by  those  who 
knew  him  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region. 

While  leisurely  sauntering  down  Larimer  street  in 
Denver,  about  ten  o'clock  one  evening,  I  was  approached 
by  two  burly  policemen,  rudely  hustled  into  a  patrol 
wagon  and  hurriedly  driven  to  the  City  Jail.  Not  a  word 

[387] 


was  spoken  en  route.  The  journey  occupied  but  a  few 
moments.  Arrived  at  the  jail,  I  was  received  by  the 
turnkey,  a  man  I  long  had  known.  He  greeted  me  cor- 
dially, helped  me  to  a  cigar,  and  while  we  sat  smoking 
together  in  the  Desk  Sergeant's  office,  Field  and  a  few 
friends  came  hastily  in.  'Gene  had  "put  up  the  job  on 
me,"  but  fearing  some  indignity  might  be  offered,  he  had 
run  down  to  the  jail  in  great  haste,  entering  with  some 
perturbation.  The  joke,  in  this  instance,  really  was  upon 
him,  although  it  might  have  been  otherwise  had  I  not, 
fortunately,  been  acquainted  with  the  turnkey. 

That  was  but  a  mild  sample  of  his  practical  joking. 

Upon  another  occasion  I  had  dropped  down  to  Mani- 
tou  for  a  protracted  and  much-needed  rest.  As  was  the 
custom  in  those  days  of  six-day  papers,  Field  and  his 
chums  had  gone  down  to  spend  the  Sabbath,  intending  to 
return  on  Monday  in  time  to  get  out  Tuesday  morning's 
paper.  On  Wednesday  following  I  had  occasion  to  go  to 
Denver  for  a  single  day.  Meeting  Field  on  the  street,  I 
remarked  to  him  that  he  had  left  the  Springs  a  day  too 
soon.  Inquiring  the  reason,  I  told  him  that  on  Monday 
a  car-load  of  people  from  St.  Joe,  his  old  home,  had  ar- 
rived, and,  queried  as  to  who  were  in  the  party,  I  named 
all  whom  I  could  remember,  adding  that  there  was  a  girl 
included  who  already  had  cut  quite  a  wide  swath  at  Man- 
itou,  a  girl  of  pronounced  beauty  and  spirit,  locally 
known  as  "the  belle  of  St.  Joe." 

Field  happened  to  be  acquainted  with  the  lady,  and 
said  as  much  but  no  more  to  me,  and  with  that  we  parted. 

I  arose  early  next  morning,  with  the  purpose  of  tak- 
ing the  only  train  for  Manitou,  and,  supplying  myself 
with  a  copy  of  The  Tribune,  I  repaired  to  the  dining 
room  of  the  Windsor  Hotel.  Turning  at  once  to  the 
editorial  page  of  the  paper,  always  the  most  entertaining 
section  of  it  in  those  days,  I  was  horrified  acid  mortified 

[388] 


— if  not  petrified — by  sight  of  a  poem,  "top  of  col- 
umn, next  to  reading  matter" — signed  with  my  name, 
reading  thus : 

Cupid  at  Manitou 

I've  been  at  the  Springs  for  a  merrisome  while, 

And  oh,  need  I  tell  you  the  rest? 
Why,  my  soul  lights  my  eyes  with  an  eloquent  smile, 

As  a  little  bird  sings  at  my  breast! 
Her  face,  like  the  lilies,  is  modest  and  fair, 

And  her  orbs  with  an  ecstacy  glow, 
And  cute  little  bangs  straggle  out  of  her  hair — 

She's  a  darling  young  belle  from  St.  Joe! 

We  met  on  the  foothills,  the  usual  way, 

I  was  footsore,  and  hungry  and  weak, 
But  my  pangs  disappeared  like  the  night  before  day, 

And  the  hot  blush  mantled  my  cheek. 
Ah,  it's  many  a  maiden  with  radiance  rare, 

I've  met  in  my  walks  to  and  fro, 
But  with  never  a  maid  that  presumed  to  compare 

With  the  beauteous  young  belle  of  St.  Joe ! 

I'm  going  to  Leadville  to  print  and  to  write, 

With  a  little  bird's  song  in  my  breast, 
But  I'll  hie  to  the  Springs  every  Saturday  night, 

And  woo  that  sweet  bird  in  her  nest. 
'Neath  the  glorious  stars  and  the  sad-visaged  moon, 

While  the  vespers  are  whispering  low, 
I'll  sit  in  the  soughing  and  gloaming  and  spoon — 

Oh,  I'm  mashed  on  the  Belle  of  St.  Joe! 

— C.  C.  DAVIS. 

The  "Belle  of  St.  Joe,"  as  she  had  come  to  be  known 
almost  before  her  luggage  was  unpacked,  had  been  as- 
signed to  a  seat  at  my  table;  I  had  been  formally  pre- 
sented to  her ;  she  had  been  discussed  about  the  hotel  by 
the  guests,  nearly  all  of  whom  I  personally  knew ;  in  the 
journey  to  Denver  I  had  gossiped  about  the  lady,  her 

[889] 


beauty  and  accomplishments,  with  the  wife  of  the  Gov- 
ernor of  the  State,  a  guest  at  the  Manitou  House. 

The  train  for  Manitou  was  due  to  leave  in  an  hour. 
Take  it  ?  I  could  not. 

Much  as  I  needed  the  rest  for  which  I  had  gone 
there,  I  no  more  dared  to  return  at  that  time  than  if  I 
had  been  guilty  of  purloining  the  hotel  silver. 

There  was  but  one  thing  for  me  to  do,  but  one  re- 
course. I  telegraphed  the  clerk  of  the  house  at  Manitou 
to  forward  my  belongings  to  Leadville,  and  I  returned 
home  by  another  route,  my  vacation  ended  before  it 
fairly  had  begun. 

This  was  a  pretty  serious  practical  joke,  calling  for 
reprisals.  Upon  my  return  to  my  office  I  directed  that 
the  exchange  editor,  hence  until  further  notice,  clip  every 
verse,  regardless  of  merit,  that  should  come  within  the 
purview  of  his  vision,  and  this  was  kept  up  until  I  had 
hundreds  of  poems  gathered,  poems  of  low  and  high  de- 
gree, mainly  of  the  former,  which  I  began  to  print,  one 
a  day,  or  part  of  one  a  day,  in  every  instance  crediting 
the  verse  to  Field ! 

It  was  the  very  beginning  of  'Gene's  fame  as  a  poet, 
and  some  of  the  vilest  verse  that  I  gave  space  to  soon 
found  its  way  into  Eastern  journals,  threatening  forever 
to  ruin  his  reputation  as  a  versifier. 

As  soon  as  he  began  to  realize  the  effect  of  my  das- 
tardly scheme,  he  plead  for  mercy,  promising  never  to 
repeat  the  offense,  if  only  I  would  call  a  halt  upon  the 
poetical  quotations. 

For  once,  and  I  never  heard  of  a  similar  case,  Field 
was  outgeneraled.  He  freely  admitted  that  I  had  put 
one  over  on  him  from  which  recovery  was  doubtful. 

Faithfully  he  kept  his  pledge  to  me.  But  his  other 
victims  were  numbered  by  the  hundreds.  His  column 
ol  "Sharps  and  Flats"  constituted  the  most  entertaining 

[390] 


feature  of  the  Tribune.  His  wit  was  of  the  most  rasp- 
ing sort;  it  always  was  directed  toward  individuals,  nor 
was  age,  dignity  or  position  any  protection  from  his 
daily  assaults.  For  every  paragraph  there  was  a  victim, 
with  a  decided  and  fearless  preference  for  the  man  in 
the  public  eye  at  the  time.  And  the  rector  of  the  leading 
high  church  was  no  more  immune  than  the  ward  heeler. 
He  used  the  names  of  individuals  with  an  abandon  that 
recognized  no  barriers.  How  he,  for  so  long  a  period, 
escaped  retribution  at  the  hands  of  the  bruised  and  bat- 
tered of  the  populace  has  ever  been  a  mystery  to  me. 
Friends  believed  him  possessed  of  a  charmed  life.  He 
certainly  enjoys  a  charmed  posthumous  fame. 

Often  have  I  heard  him  remark :  "Well,  boys,  you'll 
have  to  excuse  me  for  a  while.  I've  got  to  grind  out 
some  more  'mother  rot.' 

"Mother  rot"  is  what  he  denominated  the  delicious 
verse  dedicated  to  childhood,  and  on  which,  as  remarked, 
his  fame  doubtless  will  mainly  rest.  That  he  cared  much 
for  children  is  a  mistaken  idea.  He  was  kind  to  his  own ; 
yet  I've  known  him  to  go  to  his  home  on  a  pay-day  with- 
out a  penny  in  his  purse,  having  "blown  in"  his  entire 
week's  pay  in  the  purchase  of  a  "curio."  His  collection 
became  exceedingly  valuable,  and  his  wife  refused  an 
offer  of  thirty  thousand  dollars  for  it  after  his  death. 

That  the  reader  may  gain  an  idea  of  Field's  "style" 
I  will  here  give  what  he  was  pleased  to  denominate  his 
"boss  personal."  Fancy  a  prominent  and  dignified  citi- 
zen, a  man  of  family,  and  possibly  a  pillar  of  a  church, 
welcomed  to  Denver  in  a  paragraph  like  this : 

"Colonel  Thompson,  of  Crested  Butte,  arrived  in  the 
city  last  evening,  accompanied  by  his  beautiful  and  fasci- 
nating niece,  Miss  Maudie  DeVere.  They  have  apart- 
ments at  the  Windsor." 

[391] 


Another  favorite  diversion  was  to  dignify,  with 
prominence  on  the  editorial  page,  some  light  and  frivo- 
lous if  not  amorous  verse,  the  product  of  his  own  pen  of 
course,  and  to  it  he  would  append  the  name  as  author  of 
some  grave  and  reverend  citizen,  mayhap  distinguished 
for  many  virtues,  but  never  known  to  have  indulged  in 
poetic  fancies. 

In  like  manner,  in  verse  and  prose,  in  alleged  com- 
munications and  spurious  interviews,  this  merciless  Mis- 
sourian,  before  the  close  of  his  Denver  career,  had  given 
three- fourths  of  the  population  ample  warrant  for  wish- 
ing that  some  one  would  murder  him  and  conceal  the 
body. 

No  one  ever  did,  and  he  finally  escaped  to  Chicago, 
where  he  continued  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  peculiar 
genius,  modified  somewhat  to  suit  the  different  atmos- 
phere and  police  regulations,  but  characteristic  to  the 
last. 

With  what  else  he  did  at  Chicago  the  reader  doubt- 
less is  more  or  less  familiar,  for  it  is  upon  that  his  fame 
is  builded.  My  purpose  is  not  to  deal  with  it,  but  rather, 
by  a  conscientious  relation  of  facts,  of  sayings  and  do- 
ings, that  ordinarily  furnish  an  unerring  index  to  char- 
acter, to  emphasize  the  frailty  of  the  superstructure  upon 
which  posthumous  fame  sometimes  is  erected.  This 
credits  Field  with  a  nature  "like  unto  that  of  a  child/' 
With  this  purpose  steadily  in  view,  let  me  recount  some 
of  his  playful,  childish  pranks: 

An  old  friend  had  come  out  to  Denver  to  introduce 
a  new  device  of  his  own  invention  for  extinguishing 
fires,  a  sort  of  hand  grenade.  He  had  appealed  to  Field, 
his  only  acquaintance  there,  to  aid  him  in  promoting  his 
enterprise.  Through  'Gene's  influence  permission  was 
obtained  from  the  authorities  to  place  an  empty  cabin 
upon  a  vacant  lot,  ignite  the  structure  in  the  presence  of 

[392] 


a  multitude,  including  the  fire  department  and  city  of- 
ficials, and  then  demonstrate  the  efficacy  of  the  new  de- 
vice in  extinguishing  the  fire.  That  the  intensity  of  the 
flames  was  increased  by  every  grenade  that  was  thrown 
into  them,  and  that  an  entire  wagon-load  was  sacrified 
in  a  futile  effort  to  check  their  progress,  astonished  all 
except  one  of  the  spectators.  The  practical  joker  of  the 
Tribune  had  tampered  with  the  bottles,  substituting  coal 
oil  for  the  chemicals  they  were  supposed  to  contain! 

His  friend  was  ruined,  of  course,  by  this  brutal  joke, 
for  few  of  the  spectators  were  made  aware  of  the  cause 
of  the  failure  of  the  grenade  device,  and  a  repetition  of 
the  demonstration  was  unthinkable. 

Upon  another  occasion,  at  Manitou,  Field  had  been 
given  a  cot  in  one  of  the  corridors,  there  being  no  vacant 
rooms.  After  the  other  guests  had  retired,  Field,  sup- 
plied with  a  pitcher  and  bowl  of  water,  went  through 
all  of  the  contortions  of  a  much  drugged  individual,  mak- 
ing such  a  commotion  as  to  get  all  out  of  their  beds, 
including  proprietor  and  clerks.  It  was  an  immense 
joke,  much  appreciated — by  Field.  The  house  once  more 
quieted,  he  went  through  the  various  corridors  of  the 
three-story  hotel,  changing  every  occupant's  boots  or 
shoes,  carrying  those  from  the  first  to  the  third  story 
and  vice  versa,  and  then,  at  daylight  of  a  quiet  Sunday 
morning,  when  every  guest  was  supposed  to  be  enjoying 
his  or  her  beauty  sleep,  Field  got  out  the  hotel  gong  and 
pranced  through  the  halls  with  it,  making  such  a  din  that 
sleep  was  forever  abandoned. 

On  the  following  Monday  morning  he  preceded  the 
usually  large  throng  of  passengers  to  the  station,  his  arm 
in  a  sling,  his  head  bandaged  with  bloody  rags,  and  threw 
himself  upon  two  opposing  seats,  while  sympathetic  lady 
passengers  stood  up  in  the  aisles. 

After  changing  cars  at  Colorado  Springs  he  pain- 

[393] 


fully  hobbled  through  the  crowded  coaches,  hat  in  hand, 
soliciting  contributions,  receiving  many  a  quarter  or 
half,  and  retaining  every  penny! 

When  Rev.  Geo.  W.  Miln  abandoned  the  pulpit  for 
the  stage,  and  was  announced  to  appear  at  the  Tabor 
Opera  House  in  the  title  role  of  Hamlet,  Field  was  ap- 
pealed to  by  friends  of  the  preacher-player  for  fair  treat- 
ment at  the  hands  of  the  dramatic  critic  of  the  paper, 
who  happened  to  be  himself.  At  that  time  the  Tribune 
was  saying  unpleasant  things  about  every  attraction  at 
the  Opera  House,  there  having  been  a  misunderstanding 
of  some  sort  between  the  management  of  the  paper  and 
that  of  the  theater.  Field  made  satisfactory  promises, 
and  contented  himself  with  a  three-line  paragraph  about 
the  event,  after  this  highly  irritating  fashion: 

"Rev.  Geo.  W.  Miln  played  Hamlet  at  the  Opera 
House  last  night  He  played  it  until  eleven  o'clock." 

Invited  to  a  rather  swell  dinner  by  a  lady  friend  of 
Colorado  Springs,  Field  distinguished  himself,  and 
nearly  extinguished  the  function,  by  the  perpetration  of 
an  almost  unspeakable  practical  joke.  Slipping  into  the 
dining  room,  just  in  advance  of  the  guests,  he  inserted 
in  the  body  of  a  huge  stuffed  turkey  that  adorned  the 
center  of  the  table  a  giant  fire-cracker,  lighted  the  fuse, 
and  made  his  escape  to  another  part  of  the  house.  At 
the  psychological  moment  there  was  a  terrific  explosion 
in  the  dining  room.  The  effect  in  detail  perhaps  may  be 
imagined.  The  beautiful  frescoed  walls  were  decorated 
with  the  rich  dressing  of  the  monster  fowl,  and  no  two 
parts  of  the  bird  were  found  in  any  one  place. 

Shortly  before  his  death  Field  paid  a  visit  to  Los 
Angeles.  During  a  call  upon  Dr.  Norman  Bridge,  an  old 
Chicago  friend,  he  observed  hanging  upon  the  Doctor's 

[394] 


office  wall  a  fairly  good  portrait  of  Melville  E.  Stone, 
General  Manager  of  the  Associated  Press.  Taking  ad- 
vantage of  a  temporary  absence  of  his  medical  friend, 
our  practical  joker  took  down  the  picture,  wrote  beneath 
it  "Yours  truly,  'Gene  Field,"  and  replaced  it  on  the 
wall.  Months  elapsed  before  the  pleasantry  was  dis- 
covered. A  visiting  friend  of  Dr.  Bridge  suggested  that 
he  had  known  Field  in  his  lifetime,  and  thought  the  por- 
trait a  very  poor  representation! 

I  am  loathe,  even  now,  to  deny  that  Field  possessed 
some  of  the  attributes  that  have  endeared  his  name  to  so 
many  hearthstones,  although  they  were  never  made 
strikingly  manifest  to  me  during  a  rather  intimate  ac- 
quaintance and  what  passed  for  a  very  close  friendship. 
I  loved  him  I  know  not  why.  I  was  the  victim  of  many 
pranks  more  cruel  even  than  those  I  have  related,  and 
any  one  of  which  might  have  estranged  me  from  another. 
I  must  have  been  under  some  strange  hypnotic  influence^ 
for  the  wickedness  of  the  things  he  did  seemed  not  so 
to  me  at  the  time. 

I  am  quite  well  aware  that  nothing  I  may  write  will 
detract  from  the  merit  of  his  child  verse,  nor  would  I 
have  it  do  so.  He  indeed  wrote  of  something  that  exists, 
whether  he  felt  what  he  wrote  or  not,  and  much  of  his 
verse  will  endure,  notwithstanding  his  proneness  to 
jocularly  refer  to  it  as  "mother  rot." 

In  her  autobiography,  issued  in  1910,  the  Countess 
Bozenta  (Helena  Modjeska)  relates  an  amusing  ex- 
perience with  Eugene  Field,  quite  confirmatory  of  my 
insistence  that  the  dignity  or  standing  of  individuals 
never  in  the  slightest  degree  restrained  his  penchant  for 
practical  joking.  She  says: 

In  St.  Louis  I  saw  Mr.  Eugene  Field,  another  of  the 
dear  friends  I  gained  in  America.  I  admired  him  for  his 

[396] 


genuine  poetic  talent,  his  originality  and  almost  child- 
like simplicity,  as  much  as  for  his  great  heart.  He  had 
indeed  a  many-sided  and  rich  nature — most  domestic  in 
his  family  relations,  a  delightful  host  by  his  own  fire- 
side, and  yet  a  perfect  Bohemian  in  artistic  circles.  The 
author  of  exquisitely  dainty  poems,  and  withal  a  brilliant 
and  witty  humorist,  he  was  equally  lovable  in  all  these 
various  characters.  He  was  full  of  original  ideas, 
which  often  gave  a  quaint  touch  to  his  receptions.  In 
later  years,  when  he  lived  in  Chicago,  I  remember  a  din- 
ner, e  n  f  o  r  m  e,  which  he  called  a  'reversed  one/  be- 
ginning with  black  coffee  and  ice  cream  and  ending  with 
soup  and  oysters.  After  the  first  course  he  delivered  a 
most  amusing  toast.  We  were  laughing  so  much  that 
tears  stood  in  our  eyes.  He  looked  compassionately 
around  the  table,  and  saying,  'I  see  that  you  are  sad  and 
depressed;  let  us  have  some  fun/  he  went  to  a  mechanical 
piano  and  gave  us  a  few  bars  of  a  funeral  march.  After 
each  dish  he  returned  to  the  instrument  and  treated  us 
to  some  doleful  tune.  On  a  later  occasion  he  sent  us  a 
formal  invitation  to  a  party  at  his  house,  "to  meet  a 
friend  from  abroad."  But  when  we  came  there  was  no 
such  friend,  and  as  the  evening  went  on  the  foreigner 
did  not  make  his  appearance.  When  we  were  on  the 
point  of  leaving  we  heard  a  strange  sound  at  the  window. 
"At  last !"  exclaimed  our  host,  and  opening  the  window 
called  out  some  name  which  I  cannot  remember.  After 
a  few  seconds  we  saw  the  head  of  a  donkey,  and  a  most 
frightful  braying  filled  the  room.  Eugene  Field  stroked 
caressingly  the  long,  soft  ears,  until  the  soothing  effect 
of  his  hands  stopped  the  musical  entertainment,  and  the 
introduction  took  place.  "This  is  my  belated  friend! 
He  is,  indeed,  a  great  donkey!"  remarked  our  host,  quite 
seriously.  After  taking  leave  I  overheard  some  of  the 
guests  saying,  "That  was  indeed  a  bitter  satire,  but  I 
should  like  to  know  who  was  really  that  friend  from 
abroad  personified  by  the  donkey!"  Thus  are  commen- 
taries written,  looking  for  some  deep,  hidden  meaning  in 
a  simple  joke." 


[396] 


Notwithstanding  the  death  sentence  pronounced  in 
1895,  I  have  at  least  survived  nearly  all  of  my  journal- 
istic confreres  of  that  and  an  earlier  period.  Mr.  Cooper, 
Mr.  Steele,  Mr.  Dill,  Mr.  Field,  Major  Ward  and  Mr. 
Rothacker  long  since  passed  over  the  range. 

Mr.  Skiff,  a  ten-dollar-a-week  reporter  when  I  first 
met  him,  has  since  earned  international  fame  as  an  ex- 
position manager.  He  was  one  of  the  directors  of  the 
mining  exhibit  at  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago,  and  then 
became  managing  director  of  the  Field  Columbian  Mu- 
seum; he  was  in  charge  of  the  United  States  exhibit  at 
the  International  Exposition  in  Paris,  chief  of  exhibits 
at  the  St.  Louis  Exposition,  and  at  this  writing  is  one 
of  the  leading  spirits  in  the  management  of  the  Panama- 
Pacific  Exposition  in  San  Francisco.  Notwithstanding 
his  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the  proprietor  of  the  Denver 
Tribune  at  ten  dollars  a  week,  he  was  succeeded  by  an- 
other reporter  who  offered  to  do  the  work  for  eight  dol- 
lars. But  his  former  boss,  reflecting  that  his  treatment 
of  Skiff  had  not  been  just,  determined  to  restore  him 
to  his  old  position,  and  invited  him  to  call  and  discuss  the 
subject.  Upon  Skiff's  appearance  the  former  employer, 
Mr.  Herman  Beckurts,  greeted  him  with :  "Hello,  Skiff ! 
How  are  you  fixed  ?"  With  a  mixture  of  irony  and  good 
humor,  Skiff  replied:  "Well,  Mr.  Beckurts,  I  haven't 
got  much,  but  I'll  loan  you  what  I  have!" 

Ellis  Meredith  is  a  name  to  conjure  with.  Physically 
but  a  midget,  tipping  the  balance  below  a  hundred 
pounds,  she  yet  is  one  of  the  most  influential  and  forceful 
characters  ever  connected  with  the  press  of  the  Centen- 
nial State.  She  is  a  brilliant  essayist,  a  profound  polit- 
ical commentator  and  a  most  pleasing  versifier.  In  1893 
she  was  summoned  to  Chicago  to  plan  the  furniture  and 
select  the  furnishings  for  the  Woman's  Building  at  the 
World's  Fair.  Later  she  was  chosen  by  the  National 

[397] 


Woman's  Suffrage  Association  to  present  an  appeal  for 
the  ballot  for  women  to  the  Committee  on  Privileges  and 
Elections  of  the  United  States  Senate.  To  her  efforts, 
perhaps,  more  than  to  any  other  single  human  instru- 
mentality, is  to  be  ascribed  the  granting  to  women  of  the 
ballot  in  Colorado.  For  a  number  of  years  past  she  has 
been  at  the  head  of  the  Electoral  Commission  of  that 
State,  having  control  of  the  entire  voting  machinery  of 
the  commonwealth.  Intellectually  she  is  a  prodigy.  In 
her  grasp  of  the  fundamentals  she  is  a  wonder.  Spirited, 
vivacious  and  charmingly  entertaining,  she  yet  is  modest 
and  retiring,  and  wholly  lacking  in  self-assertiveness.  In 
1904  she  spent  a  few  hours  at  my  home  in  the  San  Ga- 
briel Valley,  and  thus  referred  to  it  in  a  communication 
to  the  Denver  Times, 

*  *  *  A  week  or  so  later  I  spent  the  day  with 
him  and  Mrs.  Davis  on  their  beautiful  walnut  ranch,  a 
mile  from  San  Gabriel.  The  second  Mrs.  Davis  was  no 
flighty  or  designing  girl  when  she  met  Cad  Davis,  but 
a  woman  of  sound  judgment  and  mature  years.  If  ever 
two  people  were  happy  together  they  are,  and  if  ever  a 
woman  saved  a  man's  life  when  he  was  on  the  verge, 
and  helped  him  back  to  something  like  old-time  vigor, 
the  present  Mrs.  Davis  is  that  woman.  For  Cad  Davis 
— which  sounds  so  much  more  natural  than  Carlyle 
Channing — is  doing  extremely  well  for  himself.  He 
has  accumulated  a  good  deal  more  than  a  competence, 
and  is  regarded  as  a  shrewd  and  careful  business  man. 
He  has  offices  in  the  Mason  Opera  House  in  Los  Arr- 
geles.  He  has  grown  younger  himself,  if  anything,  dur- 
ing the  past  ten  years;  and  if  his  investments  turn  out 
anything  like  as  well  as  they  promise,  he  will  soon  possess 
more  wordly  wealth  than  he  ever  owned  in  this  State 
after  the  panic.  *  *  Hasn't  the  time  al- 

most come  when  a  man  and  woman  may  elect  to  go 
their  separate  ways  without  having  to  blacken  the  char- 
acter of  the  other  by  way  of  self-justification  ?  Remem- 

[398] 


bering  the  pain  and  loneliness  of  her  life,  and  the  great- 
est sorrow  that  she  had  always  to  bear — a  sorrow  in  no 
way  brought  upon  her  by  Mr.  Davis — her  release  is  a 
mercy.  But  in  times  like  this,  when  one  speaks  tenderly 
of  the  dead,  we  should  be  careful  to  be  just  to  the  living. 


[399] 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

SURRENDER  TO  NATURE'S   EXACTIONS — LIFE   IN   THE 
PALACES  OF  THE  AFFLICTED 

How  meager  the  knowledge  of  learned  doctors  and 
eminent  specialists!  In  1895,  after  a  most  thorough 
examination,  I  was  by  them  sentenced  to  death !  I  might 
live  three  months,  possibly  a  year,  but  beyond  that  they 
held  out  little  hope.  A  presumably  incurable  ailment  had 
for  twelve  years  been  making  insidious  inroads  upon  my 
nervous  system,  culminating,  in  midsummer  of  that  year, 
in  a  complete  collapse.  My  office  force  was  so  well  or- 
ganized, it  was  believed  it  would  hold  together,  for  a 
time  at  least,  and  until  disposition  could  be  made  of  the 
institution  I  had  been  nearly  two  decades  in  building  up. 
I  was  removed  to  Denver,  and  in  St.  Luke's  Hospital 
and  the  Williams-Marquette  Sanitarium  I  spent  seven- 
teen weeks,  in  the  care  and  under  the  heavenly  ministra- 
tions of  as  devoted  a  band  of  nurses  as  ever  wore  insig- 
nia of  their  order. 

I  no  more  heard  the  clank  of  presses  or  the  exhaust 
of  engines,  but  awoke  each  morning  to  the  soothing 
strains  of  vocal  music  and  the  mellowing  peals  of^organ 
in  the  chapel,  enjoyed  a  dainty  tray  breakfast,  and 
waited  with  eagerness  the  morning  call  of  the  doctor — 
the  kindly,  gentle,  sympathetic  doctor,  who  looked  so 
profoundly  wise,  and,  relatively,  knew  so  little!  A  few 
instructions  to  the  attendants,  a  bit  of  encouragement  to 
the  patient,  and  off  to  the  next  room,  leaving  me  to  my 
own  devices  until  the  evening  round  of  visits. 

At  first  no  callers  were  to  be  admitted,  but  the  nurses, 

[400] 


Cook    Drum    Corps    in    Sycamore    Grove,    Los    Angeles 

Parade    of  the   Corps   in    Spring   Street.    Los    Angeles 

Guests  of  the   Author  on   Excursion   to  Catalina   Island 


God  bless  them,  early  smuggled  in  a  few,  and  the  favor- 
able effect  was  so  marked  as  to  warrant  them  in  recom- 
mending that  the  doors  be  thrown  open  to  all  comers. 
The  visits  of  the  eight  hundred  friends  of  whom  a  record 
was  preserved  by  the  nurses  did  more  to  restore  me  to 
normal  status,  I  do  verily  believe,  than  all  the  morphia, 
cannibus  Indica,  strychnine,  and  other  drugs  with  un- 
pronounceable Latin  names,  with  which  I  was  plied. 

Never  before  had  it  been  so  much  as  whispered  that 
my  backbone  needed  strengthening,  yet  the  course  of 
treatment  called  for  half  an  hour  of  enforced  stretching 
daily,  until  it  was  found  that  I  had  grown  in  stature 
three-quarters  of  an  inch! 

Barring  the  essential  odors  of  iodoform  and  sundry 
other  disinfectants,  I  rather  enjoyed  the  invalided  ex- 
perience. One  has  such  expansive  opportunities  for  in- 
trospection, for  reflection,  for  mental  resolution,  for  re- 
view of  all  that  has  gone  before.  All  the  influences  of 
earth  and  air,  the  surroundings  and  environment  and 
association  of  a  modern  hospital  and  sanitarium  are  dis- 
tinctly soothing  and  comforting,  encouraging  and  help- 
ful— all  make  for  mental  and  physical  rehabilitation. 
My  sole  grievance  was  the  ban  against  smoking,  but  even 
that  restraining  rule  was  minimized  by  my  sympathetic 
and  ingenious  nurses,  who  daily,  in  mid-afternoon, 
stuffed  the  door  and  window  jambs  with  cotton,  to  pre- 
vent the  escape  of  smoke,  and  with  one  standing  guard 
outside,  to  warn  callers  that  I  was  sleeping  and  must  not 
be  disturbed,  the  other  entertained  me  with  pleasing 
stories,  while  I  enjoyed  my  fragrant  Havana ! 

How  artfully  I  bribed  those  sweet  nurses  to  break 
house  rules,  with  theater  tickets  and  carriage  drives,  the 
doctor,  nor  yet  the  director  or  head  nurse,  never  knew, 
and  here  will  learn,  if  ever,  for  the  first  time — for  I 
didn't  die  in  accordance  with  the  program — nor  yet  die 

[401] 


at  all,  and  have  lived  so  many  years  since  that  most  of 
the  young  nurses  have  grown  to  maturity,  and  mayhap 
maternity,  if  not  grandmotherdom,  while  even  the  doc- 
tor himself  long  ago  passed  over  the  range,  and  into  the 
realm  to  which  he  had  decreed  I  must  precede  him.  I 
forgive  him  his  false  predictions  and  am  willing  there 
should  be  placed  on  his  tomb  a  duplicate  of  the  spirit  of 
that  notice  which  it  was  once  facetiously  said  adorned 
a  Leadville  church:  "Don't  shoot  the  organist:  He 
does  the  best  he  can." 

While  convalescing  my  Leadville  holdings  were  dis- 
posed of,  and  preparations  made  for  my  removal  to  sea 
level,  where  it  was  thought  my  declining  days  might  be 
spent  in  comparative  comfort. 

Col.  D.  B.  Robinson,  President  of  the  Atchison,  To- 
peka  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad,  had  proffered  his  private 
car  in  which  to  convey  me  to  California,  declaring  that 
if  I  would  not  take  it  at  the  Union  Station  in  Denver,  he 
would  "back  it  up  to  the  hospital,"  and,  to  circumvent 
his  machinations,  I  finally  slipped  away  between  two 
days,  giving  him  no  hint  of  date  of  departure.  I  felt 
that  I  would  prefer  walking  to  riding  alone  in  a  private 
car. 

A  consultation  of  doctors  had  culminated  in  the  de- 
cree that  I  could  no  longer  hope  to  live,  even  at  the  alti- 
tude of  Denver,  and  I  had  been  given  but  a  day  in  which 
to  return  to  Leadville,  arrange  my  tangled  affairs,  and 
say  a  lasting  farewell  to  the  scenes  and  the  people  I  loved 
so  much.  This,  I  did,  as  the  lawyers  say,  "in  words  and 
figures  following,  to-wit:" 

I  have  this  day — indeed  only  this  hour,  so  to  say — 
concluded  the  sale  of  all  my  Leadville  newspaper  prop- 
erties to  a  company  of  which  the  well-known,  the  bril- 
liant, the  distinguished,  young  newspaper  editor  and 
manager,  Mr.  Wm.  H.  Griffith,  is  the  head.  It  remains 

[402] 


to  me  only  to  say  farewell  to  the  people  among  whom  I 
have  lived  so  long,  and  among  whom  I  have  found  so 
many  ties  of  friendship  which  it  cannot  be  otherwise 
than  sad  and  painful  to  me,  in  my  condition,  to  sever, 
with  so  little  hope  that  they  can  ever  in  this  world  be 
renewed.  I  have  lived  among  you  17  years.  We  have 
struggled  together  for  our  prosperity.  We  have  wept 
together  for  our  dead. 

The  position  of  an  editor,  in  a  community  like  this, 
where  he  becomes  personally  known  to  all,  is  much  like 
that  of  school  master.  He  cannot  hope  that  his  motives 
will  always  be  understood  and  appreciated. 

I  have  worked  among  you  and  with  you  and  for  you, 
not  always  indeed  to  your  satisfaction,  but  always  earn- 
estly according  to  my  poor  best,  and  on  the  whole  you 
have  always  sustained  me  with  a  patience,  and  mostly 
with  a  cordial  faith  in  my  poor  labors,  which  it  fills  my 
heart  with  gratitude  to  remember.  Now  that  I  am  leav- 
ing you  forever,  I  think  it  cannot  seem  to  any  one  foolish 
or  unmanful  that  I  should  say,  now  that  the  labor  of  life 
is  ended,  now  that  I  am  going  away  to  await,  with  such 
fortitude  as  I  may,  the  coming  of  the  angel  of  peace  and 
rest,  the  silent  angel  of  death — now  that  I  am,  like  an 
old  and  worn  out  teacher,  closing  the  old  school  house, 
casting  one  last,  sad,  tearful  look  about  upon  the  old 
desks,  the  old  play-grounds — one  regretful,  self-re- 
proachful look  upon  the  old  ferule — to  say,  in  such 
a  sad  moment,  that  the  people  of  this  now  strong  and 
substantial  community,  among  whom,  and  with  whom, 
I  have  labored,  and  who  have  so  patiently  and  apprecia- 
tively sustained  me  since  we  began  together  the  building 
up  from  a  rough  log  cabin  camp,  that  you  were  at  this 
moment,  yourselves,  your  interests,  your  children,  your 
dead,  for  whom  we  have  wept  together — that  you,  and 
all  that  you  cherish,  seem  inexpressibly  dear  to  me,  now 
that  I  am  parting  from  you. 

And  I  hope  it  cannot  be  thought  unmanful  weakness 
to  cherish  the  hope  that  you  may  have  a  tender  and  for- 
giving memory  for  my  shortcomings,  and  remember  only 
that  I  have  wrought  according  to  my  poor  best. 

[403] 


My  successor  takes  possession  of  an  establishment 
already  solidly  built  up,  and  which  with  his  brilliant  and 
charming  capabilities  as  a  writer  and  manager,  he  is  cer- 
tain to  expand  and  extend  the  influence  of  the  Leadville 
press  far  beyond  anything  I  have  permitted  myself  to 
hope  for  or  attempt.  I  beg  to  commend  him  to  the  pa- 
tient and  appreciative  good  will  with  which  you  have  so 
long  sustained  my  own  poor  endeavors. 

And,  now,  dear  friends,  school  is  out — for  me  at 
least — and  so  farewell — farewell,  and  God  be  with  you 
all. 


[404] 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

BOARDING  THE  OREGON — ON   TO   ZION — A   NEMESIS 
SHELTERED  IN  HOME  FOR  VETERANS 

With  that  semi-hysterical  screed,  I  finally  quitted 
Leadville,  my  sadness  at  parting  but  meagerly  expressed. 
I  yet  hoped  eventually  to  be  able  to  live  at  the  altitude 
of  Denver,  and  consented  to  go  to  California  for  a 
season,  more  as  a  concession  to  the  advice  of  doctors 
and  friends  than  conviction  of  necessity.  I  set  my  face 
to  the  westward  with  something  like  Spartan  courage, 
spurning  the  suggestion  of  a  nurse,  but  suffering  for 
the  need  of  one  before  reaching  the  coast. 

A  year  under  the  friendly  skies  of  Southern  Califor- 
nia performed  wonders  for  me,  but  my  love  for  and  loy- 
alty to  Colorado  had  increased  rather  than  diminished, 
and  I  determined  to  return. 

During  a  few  days'  sojourn  in  San  Francisco,  en 
route  thither,  I  joined  an  excursion  party  of  newspaper 
and  railway  men  to  the  Golden  Gate,  to  meet  the  "Ore- 
gon" on  its  way  north  from  the  Santa  Barbara  channel, 
where  it  had  made  a  most  successful  trial  trip  in  the 
government  proving  grounds  there.  The  now  famous 
vessel  had  not  been  painted,  its  armament  had  yet  to  be 
provided,  and  water  several  inches  deep  was  washing  its 
decks,  when  we  boarded  her  in  mid-channel. 

No  member  of  our  party  for  a  moment  realized  what 
an  acquisition  the  "Oregon"  was  to  be  to  the  country's 
navy,  what  a  record  journey  it  was  so  soon  to  make  down 
the  lengthened  Pacific  coast,  around  Cape  Horn,  and  up 
the  Atlantic  side,  in  time  to  strike  such  telling  blows  in 

[405] 


the  historic  sea  fight  at  Santiago,  in  which  the  flower  of 
the  Spanish  navy  was  rammed  and  battered  to  pieces  and 
left  stranded  on  the  Southern  shores  of  Cuba.  But  she 
was  the  product  of  California  ingenuity,  skill  and  su- 
perior handicraft,  and  all  were  justly  proud  of  the  mag- 
nificent record  for  speed  just  made  in  the  harbor  of 
Santa  Barbara. 

Her  reception  at  San  Francisco  was  in  keeping  with 
the  high  character  of  the  craft,  and  the  important  place 
her  maiden  trip  was  destined  to  have  in  the  fast- forming 
history  of  Uncle  Sam's  navy.  Every  vessel  in  the  bay, 
from  Sausalito  to  the  Union  Iron  Works,  was  dressed 
in  the  colors,  from  deck  to  tip  of  main  mast,  flags  and 
pennants  floated  in  the  balmy  breeze  everywhere  on  land 
and  water,  jack  tars  without  number  lined  the  yard-arms 
of  all  the  craft,  cannons  boomed,  whistles  shrieked  and 
bells  clanged,  while  the  air  fairly  trembled  with  the 
cheers  of  the  multitude  that  from  every  vantage  point 
joined  in  the  acclaim  to  the  great  sea  fighter  that  was  to 
be. 

After  a  hasty  tour  of  the  Sound  cities,  I  went  east- 
ward over  the  Oregon  Railway  and  Navigation  Com- 
pany's line  to  Utah's  capital,  on  my  way  to  Denver.  At 
Salt  Lake  City  I  was  met  with  two  calamities,  either  of 
which  was  sufficient  to  compel  a  complete  change  in  my 
plans.  The  old  malady  attacked  me  with  renewed  vigor, 
and  the  best  advice  I  could  procure  from  medicos  was 
to  hasten  back  to  sea  level. 

At  the  same  time  there  appeared  on  the  scene  a  Nem- 
esis, in  the  shape  of  a  representative  of  dependents, 
claiming  one  hundred  per  cent,  more  property  than  I 
owned,  and  rather  than  contend  for  a  fair  division,  I 
made  over  to  him,  for  their  benefit,  everything  I  pos- 
sessed, save  the  necessary  expense  of  the  return  journey 
to  the  coast.'  I  then  made  application  to  the  Pacific 

[406] 


Branch  of  the  National  Home  for  Disabled  Volunteer 
Soldiers,  near  Santa  Monica.  There,  under  the  shelter 
of  the  roof  provided  by  an  appreciative  government  for 
its  saviors  and  dependents,  I  had  determined  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  my  days,  be  they  short  or  long. 

But  conditions  at  the  Home  were  not  as  I  had  antici- 
pated, and  my  sojourn  there,  for  the  greater  part  of  a 
year,  was  a  decidedly  mixed  pleasure.  I  was  assigned 
to  a  cot  on  the  third  floor  of  a  barracks  building,  into 
which,  under  the  rules,  the  admission  of  food  was  not 
permitted.  Often,  because  of  my  crippled  condition,  I 
could  not  reach  the  main  dining  room,  and  at  such  times 
I  suffered  for  want  of  nourishment.  There  was  not  a 
vacant  bed  in  the  hospital  where  I  could  have  been  prop- 
erly cared  for.  I  was  the  victim  of  conditions  for  which 
the  management  was  in  no  wise  responsible. 

Another  feature  of  life  in  such  a  place,  one  beyond 
correction  of  course,  is  the  enforced  association  with  a 
class  of  men  without  character  or  companionable  quality, 
the  only  qualification  for  admission  being  an  honorable 
discharge  from  army  or  navy,  and  inability  to  earn  a 
livelihood  by  manual  labor. 

This  environment,  to  a  man  of  my  nervous  condition 
and  sensitive  temperament,  was  well  nigh  unbearable. 
But  I  sustained  the  burden  with  such  fortitude  as  I  could 
command  until  relief  came — from  an  unexpected  quar- 
ter. 

I  had  previously,  during  my  stay  in  Los  Angeles, 
been  a  patient  at  the  Southern  California  Sanitarium, 
on  Grand  Avenue,  owned  and  managed  by  Miss  Mary 
Alice  Summers,  herself  a  trained  nurse  of  many  years' 
experience,  only  a  year  my  junior.  Advised  that  I  had 
returned  to  the  coast,  and  found  refuge  at  the  Home, 
she  visited  me  there,  and,  learning  the  conditions  under 
which  I  suffered,  assumed  the  task  of  correcting  them. 

[407] 


Enlisting  the  interest  of  Dr.  H.  G.  Brainerd  and  a 
number  of  the  Los  Angeles  physicians  in  my  case,  their 
influence  with  the  Chief  Surgeon  was  sufficient  to  secure 
my  admission  to  the  Home  Hospital.  Thereafter,  dur- 
ing the  remaining  period  of  my  stay,  Miss  Summers 
brought  or  sent  to  me,  almost  daily,  such  food  as  I  was 
accustomed  to  and  which  was  adapted  to  my  require- 
ments, her  heaven-sent  ministrations  removing  all  cause 
for  complaint  on  the  score  of  physical  needs.  I  was  fre- 
quently permitted  to  visit  her  home  in  the  city,  eighteen 
miles  distant,  brief  furloughs  always  being  obtainable. 
This  was  a  privilege  I  enjoyed  beyond  expression. 

I  had  parted  with  all  of  my  savings,  petitioned  the 
government  for  a  pension,  and  had  almost  come  to  feel 
that  an  impassable  gulf  separated  me  from  the  world 
in  which  I  had  been  such  a  restless  atom.  But  another 
great  grief  burdened  my  heart,  and  was  an  ever-present 
menace  to  my  peace  of  mind.  The  wife  of  twenty-five 
years,  who  never  entertained  an  unsatisfied  wish,  had 
not  only  accepted  the  last  dollar  I  possessed  on  earth, 
and  permitted  me  to  become  a  public  charge,  but  had,  as 
I  was  informed  and  believed,  justified  her  act  with  a 
claim  that  I  was  mentally  unbalanced  and  unable  longer 
to  manage  large  property  interests ! 

Able  to  overlook  other  shortcomings,  this  to  my  mind 
was  the  limit.  It  seemed  to  me  that  an  attack  upon  the 
integrity  of  my  mental  faculties,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, was  wholly  unforgivable,  and  was  the  moving 
cause  for  two  subsequent  acts.  The  first  was  a  divorce, 
the  decree  for  which  I  permitted  the  wife  to  take  upon 
a  cross-complaint  to  my  petition,  and  the  second,  a  return 
to  Colorado — should  my  health  permit — for  occular 
demonstration  of  my  sanity. 

"Marriage,"  says  Jeremy  Taylor,  "is  the  nursery  of 
heaven." 

[408] 


Typical   Foot-Hill    Home   Along    the    Santa   Ynez    Range 
Vine-Clad  Chapel   at   Montecito,   Suburb  of  Santa   Barbara 


The  right  mating  of  man  and  woman  is  the  divinest 
of  gifts  to  humanity.  But  I  had  been  unfortunate  in  the 
extreme  in  my  selection,  and  had  for  twenty  years  led 
a  most  wretched  domestic  existence.  However,  it  had 
not,  until  this  last  blow  fell,  been  my  purpose  to  seek 
relief  in  a  divorce  court;  and  my  consent  to  her  taking 
the  decree,  by  my  non-appearance,  was  in  keeping  with 
a  conviction,  always  strong  with  me,  that  regardless  of 
reasons  or  circumstances,  the  man  should  take  upon 
himself  whatever  odium  may  attach  to  a  legal  separa- 
tion, and  make  it  as  easy  and  unembarrassing  as  possible 
for  the  weaker  member  of  the  union. 


[409] 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

AGAIN  IN  HARNESS — SECOND  COLLAPSE — PROPOSAL  BY 
WIRE — SHIRT-WAIST  WEDDING 

Under  the  improved  conditions  at  the  Home,  for 
which  I  was  solely  indebted  to  the  disinterested  solicitude 
and  attentions  of  Miss  Summers,  I  steadily  gained 
strength,  and  by  the  1st  of  May,  1897,  against  the  coun- 
sel of  herself  and  the  Home  surgeon,  I  made  prepara- 
tions for  a  return  to  Colorado.  I  fairly  burned  with 
eagerness  to  prove  to  my  thousands  of  friends  in  that 
State  that  I  had  been  woefully  and  cruelly  libelled,  and 
entertained  a  yet  lingering  hope  that,  with  care,  I  might 
continue  to  live  under  its  bright  skies  and  effulgent  sun- 
shine. 

Fortune  favored  me,  for  I  hardly  had  landed  in  Den- 
ver before  I  was  tendered  the  position  of  Managing  Ed- 
itor of  the  Times.  Former  associates  of  the  press  gang 
extended  a  welcome  that  fairly  warmed  the  cockles  of 
my  heart.  With  no  worries  or  business  entanglements, 
no  domestic  heart  burns  or  earthly  ties  to  distract,  I  en- 
tered upon  my  duties  with  a  light  heart  and  a  fixed  deter- 
mination to  make  good  all  along  the  line.  Without 
egotism,  I  believe  the  editorial  page  of  the  Times,  during 
the  summer  of  1897,  reflected  intelligent  and  well- 
directed  effort.  Certain  I  am  that  it  displayed  the  best 
work  of  my  life,  and  I  felicitated  myself  that  few  if  any 
readers  of  the  paper  believed  it  was  being  conducted  by 
a  lunatic. 

But,  Alack!  and  Alas!  With  the  first  breath  of  fall, 
the  first  visitation  of  wintry  zephrys  from  Long's  and 
Gray's  Peak,  came  a  return  of  my  old  malady,  intensi- 

[410] 


fied,  no  doubt,  by  my  arduous  labors  on  the  paper,  and 
again  the  best  professional  advice  I  could  obtain  was  to 
hasten  away. 

I  was  some  time  in  reaching  California,  however,  and 
sundry  unlooked-for  events  occurred  before  I  was  per- 
mitted again  to  view  the  placid  waters  of  the  Pacific. 
An  unusually  severe  attack  of  pain  en  route  forced  me 
to  stop  at  Las  Vegas  Hot  Springs,  New  Mexico.  While 
there,  after  two  days'  effort,  I  succeeded  in  locating  Miss 
Summers  at  Sault  Saint  Marie,  Michigan,  where  she 
was  visiting  a  sister.  To  her  I  sent  what  perhaps  was 
the  most  unique  message  ever  filed  with  the  Western 
Union.  After  filing  it  I  was  in  somewhat  of  a  quandry 
as  to  whether  it  would  be  taken  as  a  joke  or  the  hysterical 
act  of  a  lunatic,  but  what  follows  shows  the  outcome 
rather  clearly  : 

In  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 

Ghost,  Amen. 

This  is  to  certify  that 

On  the  13th  Day  of  September,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord, 
One  Thousand  Eight  Hundred  and  Ninety-seven,  at  Las 
Vegas,  in  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico,  I  joined  to- 
gether in 

Holy  Matrimony 

Mr.  Carlyle  C.  Davis  and  Miss  Mary  Alice  Summers, 
according  to  the   rights   of  the   Protestant   Episcopal 
Church,  in  the  United  States  of  America,  and  in  con- 
formity with  the  laws  of  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico. 
In  witness  whereof,  I  have  hereunto  affixed  my  name, 
this   thirteenth   day   of    September,    One   Thousand 
Eight  Hundred  and  Ninety-seven. 

GEORGE  SELBY, 

Rector  Missionary  Parish  of  Las  Vegas. 
Witnesses : 

MRS.  GEO.  SELBY, 
BEATRICE  ATKINS. 

[411] 


I  had  everything  to  gain  and  nothing  to  lose  by  a 
union  with  Miss  Summers.  I  was  penniless,  with  an 
incurable  disease,  promising  candidate  for  a  wheel  chair 
at  an  early  day  at  best,  and  a  future  dependent  solely 
upon  her  professional  ability  to  keep  me  on  my  feet,  or 
at  least  in  condition  to  perform  literary  labor. 

She  took  the  awful  chance,  and  never  since  has 
whispered  a  regret  for  having  done  so. 

My  condition  called  for  a  quick  decision,  nor  was 
there  time  for  the  building  of  a  trosseau.  She  wanted 
to  have  the  privilege  of  caring  for  me,  and  hastened  to 
Las  Vegas. 

The  minister  was  ready.  The  minister's  wife  was 
ready.  Two  others'  hearts  were  ready.  It  was  a  "shirt- 
waist" wedding.  But  it  was  divinely  good,  and  has 
proved  divinely  lasting. 

After  a  few  weeks'  treatment  at  the  Hot  Springs, 
under  the  skilled  nursing  of  my  wife,  we  were  ready  to 
resume  our  journey  to  Los  Angeles. 

With  the  promise  of  financial  support  from  confiding 
friends,  I  determined  to  purchase  an  interest  in  one  of 
the  established  journals  of  that  city,  and,  with  a  view  of 
first  obtaining  dependable  data  as  to  standing  and  pros- 
pects, I  accepted  the  position  of  chief  editorial  writer  on 
the  Herald,  the  oldest  morning  paper  there,  performing 
the  duties  for  the  better  part  of  a  year,  but  convinced, 
at  the  end  of  that  period  that  I  could  not  afford  to  accept 
the  property  as  a  gift.  So  completely  intermixed  with 
corporations  was  its  ownership  that  success  seemed  quite 
beyond  realization.  I  think  my  determination  in  this 
matter  was  one  of  the  most  sagacious  acts  of  my  news- 
paper career,  inasmuch  as  far  more  capable  journalists 
subsequently  failed  to  keep  it  afloat,  and  permitted  it  to 
suspend  as  a  morning  journal  in  1912. 


[412] 


Holy  Santa  Barbara!    Stern  in  thy  beauty, 
Fair  in  thy  majesty,  lovely  in  duty; 
Steadfast  and  honest!    With  honors  due  thee, 
Hail !    We  salute  thee ! 

Firm  in  the  truth  as  thy  thought  had  revealed  it! 
True  unto  death ;  thy  conviction  ne'er  yielded 
Till  with  the  seal  of  thy  heart's  blood  thou  sealed  it ! 
Hail!    We  salute  thee! 

Faithful  and  steadfast — nor  wavering  nor  faltering 
Not  for  the  ease  of  life  turning  or  altering; 
Not  with  thy  soul  for  the  world's  acclaim  paltering! 
Hail !    We  salute  thee ! 

Legend  or  truth,  thy  story  embue  us, 
With  love  of  thy  courage  that  with  love  of  thee  drew  us, 
With  courage  unfaltering  thy  spirit  embue  us! 
Hail !    We  salute  thee ! 

In  the  autumn  of  1898  we  went  to  Santa  Barbara, 
and  were  so  captivated  by  the  scenic  beauties  and  equable 
climate  of  that  matchless  seaside  resort  that  we  deter- 
mined to  locate  there,  for  a  few  years  at  least.  Although 
more  than  abundantly  supplied  with  newspapers,  I  was 
conceited  enough  to  believe  I  could  make  a  place  for  an- 
other, and  early  in  1899  I  launched  what  I  believe  to  have 
been  the  handsomest  daily  paper  ever  printed  in  the 
United  States.  Indeed,  it  was  so  faultless  in  its  typo- 
graphical appearance  as  to  draw  out  from  the  Mergen- 
thaler  Linotype  Company  a  lengthy  commendatory  let- 
ter. 

I  secured  a  franchise  from  the  Associated  Press,  pub- 
lished the  full  western  afternoon  report,  imported  tal- 
ented literary  and  reportorial  writers,  and  started  on  a 
voyage  as  brilliant  as  it  was  brief. 

I  soon  discovered  my  error,  and  suspended  publica- 
tion of  The  Santa  Barbara  four  months  after  its  birth. 

T413] 


This  was  my  first  business  failure;  but  the  enterprise 
was  full  fifty  years  in  advance  of  the  requirements  of 
the  community.  The  inception  was  a  grievous  error,  due 
to  mistaken  judgment  as  to  the  temperament  of  the  com- 
munity; but  the  blunder  was  at  least  partially  redeemed 
by  my  sagacity  in  abandoning  it  before  more  of  my 
backers'  money  was  wasted  in  a  fruitless  endeavor  to 
compel  people  to  accept  something  they  obviously  did  not 
want. 

But  I  continued  to  reside  in  Santa  Barbara  for  two 
years,  giving  much  of  my  time,  without  compensation, 
to  civic  betterment.  A  brief  recital  of  my  volunteer  ef- 
forts and  success  in  this  behalf  may  not  be  wholly  lack- 
ing in  interest. 

The  primary  requirement  of  the  city  was  a  bath 
house.  A  seaside  resort,  not  without  fame  on  two  con- 
tinents, was  nevertheless  destitute  of  accommodations 
for  bathing.  For  twenty-five  years  the  people  had  been 
waiting  for  some  one  to  supply  the  need.  But  bathing 
establishments  are  proverbially  unprofitable,  and  private 
capital  could  not  be  persuaded  to  make  the  venture. 
When  I  located  there  the  community  was  discussing  the 
practicability  of  bonding  the  city  for  the  purpose.  But 
legal  obstacles  intervened,  and  that  method  had  to  be 
abandoned.  Finally,  and  by  private  subscription,  the 
only  available  site  for  a  bath  house  was  purchased,  and 
held  for  some  sort  of  future  disposition. 

It  was  a  wise  step,  but  only  a  step,  and  I  was  not  con- 
tent with  it.  Waiting  for  private  capital  to  volunteer 
to  engage  in  an  obviously  unprofitable  enterprise  did  not 
strike  me  as  just  the  thing,  and  being  named  as  Chair- 
man of  the  Bath  House  Committee  of  the  Chamber  of 
Commerce,  I  began  to  put  my  own  ideas  to  the  test. 

The  Chamber  named  as  my  associates  on  the  commit- 
tee Mr.  Jno.  F.  Diehl,  the  leading  merchant,  and  Mr. 


[414] 


Walter  Hawley,  large  capitalist  and  principal  owner  of 
the  Arlington  Hotel.  These  gentlemen  heartily  ap- 
proved of  my  plan  of  campaign,  and  lent  valuable  assist- 
ance in  carrying  it  to  a  successful  issue.  I  advertised  in 
the  leading  journals  of  San  Francisco  and  Los  Angeles, 
offering  a  long  lease  of  the  site  at  $1.00  per  annum, 
exemption  from  taxation  for  a  number  of  years,  and  a 
free  fresh  water  supply. 

Among  the  responses  to  the  advertisement  was  one 
from  Mr.  Roy  Jones,  son  of  the  late  Senator  J.  P.  Jones, 
of  Nevada,  a  man  of  resources  and  practical  experience. 
He  was  President  of  the  North  Beach  Bath  House  at 
Santa  Monica,  an  institution  upon  which  $60,000  had 
been  expended,  but  which  had  never  earned  a  dividend, 
although  the  chief  bathing  reliance  for  half  a  million 
people.  The  reason  given  was  the  high  cost  of  heating 
water  for  the  swimming  pool. 

Just  prior  to  my  first  meeting  with  Mr.  Jones,  the 
extensive  plant  of  the  United  Electric,  Gas  and  Power 
Company  had  been  located  alongside  the  bath  house,  and 
the  exhaust  steam  from  its  boilers,  utilized  without  cost, 
in  heating  the  water  of  the  pool.  That  excessive  ex- 
pense item  removed,  large  dividends  were  in  sight. 

Mr.  Jones  suggested  a  duplication  of  that  scheme  for 
Santa  Barbara,  but  it  was  impracticable,  because  of  the 
remoteness  of  the  existing  power  plants  there  from  the 
bath  house  site.  However,  the  suggestion  gave  me  a 
hint  of  a  plan  by  which  it  could  be  worked  out. 

The  United  Electric,  Gas  and  Power  Company  owned 
gas  and  electric  plants  at  a  number  of  beach  points,  and 
was  known  to  be  desirous  of  extending  its  territory.  The 
President  of  this  corporation  agreed  with  me  that  if  I 
could  secure  an  option  upon  the  electric  light  plant  at 
Santa  Barbara  upon  his  terms  he  would  take  over  its 
property,  "scrap"  its  machinery,  erect  a  new  power  house 

[415] 


adjacent  to  the  bath  house  site,  and  thus  be  able  to  heat 
the  water  for  a  large  swimming  pool  without  expense. 

The  scheme,  nevertheless,  was  beset  with  many  diffi- 
culties. The  Electric  Company  was  earning  comfortable 
dividends,  but  at  the  same  time  it  owned  an  unprofitable 
gas  plant,  and  it  was  unwilling  to  part  with  the  one  with- 
out unloading  the  other. 

A  counter  proposition  comprehended  a  dual  deal  of 
this  nature,  supplemented  with  an  agreement  to  erect  a 
bath  house  to  cost  not  less  than  $10,000. 

After  long  and  vexatious  negotiations  and  delays,  I 
succeeded  in  closing  a  deal  along  these  lines,  although  it 
subsequently  was  found  that  $10,000  would  scarcely 
more  than  start  the  structure.  Fifty  thousand  dollars 
was  finally  expended,  and  Santa  Barbara,  without  cost 
to  its  people,  at  last  could  boast  of  the  finest  bathing 
establishment  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  adjacent  to  the  plaza 
and  the  leading  hotel.  The  Mission  style  of  architecture 
was  adopted,  and  it  became  the  pride  of  the  city. 

The  United  Electric,  Gas  and  Power  Company 
erected  and  equipped  on  property  adjoining  the  most 
modern  power  plant  on  the  coast,  rehabilitated  the  gas 
plant  and  opened  a  large  sales  room  for  the  display  of 
gas  and  electric  fixtures. 

Later  it  acquired  the  Santa  Barbara  Consolidated 
Electric  Railway  Company's  holdings,  extended  its  lines, 
laid  heavier  rails  and  largely  added  to  its  rolling  stock. 

The  building  of  the  bath  house  and  the  making  of  the 
improvements  here  noted  were  the  moving  incentives  to 
the  erection  by  Mr.  Milo  M.  Potter  of  a  million  dollar 
hotel  on  the  ocean  front,  and  before  this  acquisition  was 
fully  realized  a  decided  impetus  was  given  to  building  of 
homes  and  mercantile  establishments  all  over  the  city, 
and  there  was  in  the  years  following  a  considerable  aug- 
mentation of  the  population. 

[416] 


I  have  dwelt  at  some  length  upon  this  achievement 
of  the  Bath  House  Committee,  less  with  the  purpose  of 
self-glorification  than  to  illustrate  the  value  of  adver- 
tising to  a  community  as  well  as  to  individuals  and  corp- 
orations. All  of  the  benefits  enjoyed  by  Santa  Barbara 
are  directly  traceable  to  a  five  line  announcement  in  the 
Los  Angeles  Times. 

Upon  taking  over  the  gas  and  electric  plants,  the 
United  Electric,  Gas  and  Power  Company  tendered  to 
me  the  position  of  General  Manager,  and  placed  me  in 
charge  of  all  its  property  in  Santa  Barbara.  This  was 
put  in  a  high  state  of  efficiency,  and  later  sold  to  the 
Southern  California  Edison  Company. 

I  continued  my  activities  in  the  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce as  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Publicity  and 
Promotion,  on  Finance  and  on  Federal  Building.  In 
the  last  named  capacity  I  caused  to  be  introduced  into 
Congress,  by  Hon.  R.  J.  Waters,  of  Los  Angeles,  a  bill 
appropriating  an  adequate  sum  of  money  for  the  erection 
of  a  Federal  Postoffice,  influenced  the  indorsement  of  the 
bill  by  both  the  San  Francisco  and  Los  Angeles  Cham- 
bers of  Commerce,  and  induced  the  owners  of  two  eligi- 
ble sites  to  tender  title  to  them  free  of  cost  to  the  govern- 
ment. Undertakings  of  this  nature  move  slowly,  and 
Santa  Barbara  did  not  realize  its  ambition  for  federal 
recognition  for  some  years. 

The  Chamber  of  Commerce  membership  included  a 
number  of  very  active,  intelligent,  sagacious,  far-seeing 
men,  conspicuous  among  whom  was  Mr.  John  F.  Diehl, 
and  with  him  and  others  on  the  several  committees  I 
worked  constantly  and  devotedly  along  the  lines  of  civic 
betterment,  rewarded  by  witnessing  great  improvement 
on  the  ocean  front,  in  the  repair  of  old  and  the  building 
of  new  roads  and  trails,  and  the  appropriation  of  State 
funds  for  sundry  public  institutions. 

[417] 


How  much  the  people  of  Santa  Barbara  owe  to  a 
score  of  devoted,  self-sacrificing  workers  of  the  period 
in  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  directory  is  recorded  in 
many  visible  works  of  improvement.  The  only  compen- 
sation they  received  was  the  conviction  of  each  that  he 
had  contributed  his  time,  efforts  and  money,  without 
expectation  of  reward,  in  rehabilitating  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  cities  on  the  continent,  a  city  with  priceless 
natural  advantages,  but  which  up  to  that  period  had  not 
nearly  been  appreciated,  and  only  partially  taken  advan- 
tage of. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

AGAIN  WITH  ANGELS — CREATING  FICTION  AND  DEAL- 
ING IN  JUNK — FARMER  ONCE  MORE 

The  wonderful  building  boom  enjoyed  by  Los  An- 
geles in  the  first  two  decades  of  the  century  began  in 
1900,  and  in  the  spring  following  we  decided  to  return 
and  make  yet  another  effort  to  rehabilitate  a  depleted 
fortune.  That  of  course  was  not  possible  in  the  pursuit 
of  my  profession.  But  at  Santa  Barbara  I  had  about 
dissipated  my  wife's  meagre  savings,  and  I  could  not 
afford  to  remain  idle  for  any  extended  period.  I,  there- 
fore, accepted  the  first  position  proffered  me,  that  of 
managing  editor  of  the  Daily  Journal.  There  is  not 
supposed  to  be  any  place  in  a  modern  daily  newspaper 
office  for  a  "lame  duck,"  but  I  made  good  in  this  place, 
the  requirements  not  being  very  exacting.  Indeed  I  was 
able  to  supplement  my  editorial  work  on  the  Journal 
with  a  book  on  "Lead  Smelting  By  Blast  Furnace,"  the 
technical  features  of  which  were  furnished  by  the  emi- 
nent chemist  and  metallurgist,  Dr.  M.  W.  lies,  who  for 
twenty  years  was  head  chemist  for  the  Globe  and  the 
Omaha  and  Grant  Smelters  at  Denver,  and  inventor  of 
the  "Bag  House,"  a  device  for  extracting  precious  metal 
values  from  the  fumes  of  the  furnace,  theretofore  escap- 
ing into  the  atmosphere.  This  work  has  since  become 
something  of  a  text  book  for  assayers,  chemists  and  met- 
allurgists. 

Included  in  a  number  of  contributions  to  the  periodi- 
cal press,  the  East  as  well  as  the  West,  was :  "Ramona, 
the  Real  and  the  Ideal,"  illustrated  and  published  in  the 

[419] 


December,  1903,  edition  of  "Out  West"  Magazine.  By 
reason  of  my  previous  long  acquaintance  with  the  author 
of  "Ramona,"  Mrs.  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  ("H.H.")  at 
Colorado  Springs,  and  my  wife's  intimacy  with  the  Del 
Valles  and  Coronels  in  California,  we  were  enabled  to 
collaborate  with  success  in  dissipating  the  many  fictions 
regarding  the  romantic  novel  of  Ramona,  the  sale  of 
which  has  been  exceeded  by  but  one  other  purpose  novel, 
the  immortal  work,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Our  contri- 
bution to  Out  West  magazine  ran  through  several  edi- 
tions, and  elicited  letters  of  inquiry  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  In  this  we  told  the  whole  story,  from  inception 
to  close,  and  embellished  it  with  portraits  of  all  the  prin- 
cipal characters  and  a  number  of  scenes,  including, 
amongst  the  former,  Ramona  as  a  child,  Senator  R.  L. 
Del  Valle,  the  "Senor  Felipe"  of  the  romance;  Senora 
Dona  Ysabel  del  Valle,  the  "Senora  Moreno;"  Don  An- 
tonio F.  Coronel  and  Dona  Mariana  de  Coronel,  who 
inspired  the  romance  and  aided  the  author  in  its  prepara- 
tion, as  well  as  of  the  author  herself,  from  a  painting  by 
Harmon.  The  scenes  depicted  included  a  view  of  Ca- 
mulos  ranch;  the  patio  at  Camulos;  "El  Recreo,"  the  old 
Coronel  home  in  Los  Angeles ;  Don  Antonio,  Dona  Mar- 
iana and  her  sister  in  a  Spanish  dance  on  the  veranda, 
as  well  as  a  number  of  Indian  groups  at  Camulos,  Pala 
Mission  and  elsewhere. 

This  work  was  so  well  received,  and  the  demand  for 
it  so  much  in  advance  of  the  supply,  that  I  later  decided 
to  reproduce  it  in  book  form,  largely  extending  the  text 
and  multiplying  the  illustrations.  The  title  was  changed 
to  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  and  a  handsome  vol- 
ume issued  from  the  art  press  of  the  Dodge  Publishing 
Co.,  New  York,  in  October,  1914.  The  work  was  well 
received  by  book  reviewers  throughout  the  country,  the 
New  York  Times  including  it  in  a  list  of  "the  most  im- 

1420] 


portant  and  useful  books  of  the  year."  It  is  on  the 
market  in  cloth,  $2.00  and  full  leather,  $5.00. 

I  spent  the  summer  of  1902  in  an  exceedingly  stren- 
uous struggle  with  the  grim  spectre  of  Death,  triumph- 
ing over  him  in  August  of  that  year,  under  the  intelligent 
and  scientific  direction  of  Dr.  H.  G.  Brainerd,  the  emi- 
nent nerve  specialist,  and  the  devoted  attention  of  my 
wife,  who  scarcely  left  my  bedside  during  that  long  and 
trying  battle  with  the  great  Reaper.  Convalescence  was 
slow,  and  nearly  two  years  passed  before  I  was  able  to  do 
much  save  with  my  pen  in  bed. 

Once  again  on  my  feet,  I  got  busy  with  a  scheme  to 
put  money  in  my  purse,  and  would  have  made  quite  a 
little  fortune  had  I  possessed  the  capital  necessary  to  fi- 
nance a  promising  undertaking.  Associated  with  a  num- 
ber of  gentlemen  I  secured  a  franchise  from  Mr.  Henry 
E.  Huntington  for  advertising  in  the  cars  of  his  Los 
Angeles  electric  system,  and  assigned  it  to  the  "West 
Coast  Advertising  Company,"  a  corporation  of  which  I 
became  president.  Unable  to  equip  the  cars,  a  very  con- 
siderable sum  being  required,  I  was  forced  to  part  with 
control,  and  soon  after,  minority  ownership  being  irk- 
some, I  took  a  much  lesser  profit  than  I  should  have  re- 
ceived, and  retired  from  the  company. 

Given  a  natural  grove  of  oranges,  lemons  or  walnuts, 
plus  a  comfortable  modern  bungalow,  and  ranch  life  in 
Southern  California  is  ideal,  especially  if  one  has  a  bank 
or  other  profitable  business  in  a  near  by  city  to  compen- 
sate for  the  usual  hiatus  between  income  and  outgo. 

O,  yes,  I  have  heard  of  the  man  who,  upon  a  five  acre 
plot  of  ground,  supported  a  large  family  above  interest 
upon  investment,  only  I  never  happened  to  encounter 
him  in  the  flesh.  Nor  did  I  ever  harbor  the  fallacy  that, 
after  failing  in  all  other  undertakings,  a  man  can  al- 
ways make  a  success  of  farming.  It  did  not  require 

[421] 


experience  to  convince  me  that  it  calls  for  a  higher  de- 
gree of  intelligence  than  almost  any  other  pursuit — 
greater  watchfulness  and  devotion,  a  keener  perception, 
sounder  judgment.  I  went  on  to  a  ranch  in  the  San 
Gabriel  Valley  in  1904,  anticipating  just  about  what 
subsequently  happened.  It  was  set  solid  to  English  wal- 
nuts, presumably  in  full  bearing,  and  the  net  returns 
from  which  would  about  pay  the  "keep"  of  a  man  and  a 
team.  The  profit  and  "living"  must  come  from  what 
could  be  produced  between  the  rows  of  trees  and  in  the 
product  of  henery  and  rabbitry.  There  was  naught  else 
on  the  place  but  a  mortgage.  Rare  indeed  is  the  Califor- 
nia ranch  without  a  mortgage !  I  managed  to  acquire  a 
team  and  the  necessary  implements  and  tools.  Then  I 
built  a  barn  which  sheltered  self  and  wife  till  I  could 
erect  a  suitable  dwelling,  the  live  stock  meanwhile  con- 
signed to  a  shed.  I  realize  that  these  details  are  not  of 
thrilling  interest,  but  they  seem  to  me  to  serve  a  purpose. 

White  men  cannot  compete  with  Orientals  in  truck 
gardening,  hence  I  gave  my  attention  to  special  crops. 
Sweet  potatoes  were  most  promising.  Formerly  the 
market  had  opened  at  7  to  10  cents  per  pound,  declining 
to  3  cents.  But  it  was  my  luck  to  strike  a  3-cent  opening 
market,  declining  to  1  cent.  Otherwise  I  should  have 
netted  sufficient  from  my  first  crop  to  build  a  home. 

The  next  year  I  went  in  for  Casaba  melons,  supposed 
to  mature  in  mid-winter  and  yield  fabulous  holiday  re- 
turns. No  soil  was  ever  better  prepared,  no  young 
shoots  ever  more  devotedly  nurtured.  But  the  crop  fully 
matured  in  September,  and  it  would  have  puzzled  a  Bur- 
bank  to  classify  the  yield.  It  was  neither  a  melon  nor  a 
cucumber,  but  a  cross  between  the  two,  which  neither 
chickens  nor  hogs  would  eat.  The  seedsman  had  sold 
me  a  gold  brick,  and  lawyers  advised  me  I  could  not 
recover. 

[422] 


But  the  flowers  and  plants  and  vines,  early  started, 
now  began  to  glorify  the  place  with  their  blossoms  and 
verdure.  I  had  sold  a  part  of  the  land,  and  with  the 
proceeds  erected  a  unique  bungalow,  a  rustic  bridge  and 
a  pergola.  We  named  the  place  "La  Unica,"  and  it  soon 
was  regarded  as  a  show  place. 

Finally,  I  hit  upon  one  thing  that  could  be  raised  with 
certainty.  That  was  the  price.  One  can  always  raise 
the  price  on  a  Southern  California  ranch.  Then  I  sold 
at  an  advance  of  $1600  an  acre,  and  later  took  over  a 
grain  ranch  in  Orange  County,  swapping  that  for 
orange  groves  in  Duarte,  and,  almost  before  I  was  aware 
of  it,  I  was  engaged  in  the  real  estate  business,  swapping 
city  for  country,  and  country  for  city,  to  the  great  de- 
light and  profit  of  regular  agents,  who  absorbed  in  com- 
missions about  all  the  real  money  that  developed  in  the 
various  deals.  I  did  not  carry  this  to  its  ultimate  con- 
clusion, else  I  should  eventually  have  landed  in  the  poor 
house.  Just  how  long  it  can  profitably  be  engaged  in  is 
a  problem  that  perhaps  might  be  referred  to  the  man 
who  broke  the  bank  at  Monte  Carlo. 

A  dealer,  desiring  to  illustrate  the  dullnes  of  the 
realty  market,  once  said  to  me:  "The  truth  is,  we're 
all  in  a  hole  down  here,  and  everybody  is  engaged  in 
trading  holes."  While  in  the  business  a  number  of  inci- 
dents developed  emphasizing  the  proneness  of  a  class  to 
dishonesty.  Thus,  for  an  equity  in  a  vacant  lot,  upon 
which  I  was  paying  interest  upon  an  $1800  mortgage,  I 
was  offered  a  clear  property  in  Kern  County,  consisting 
of  two  acres  of  ground,  improved  with  a  two-story  ce- 
ment house,  occupied  by  the  leading  mercantile  estab- 
lishment of  the  place,  the  postoffice  and  sleeping  rooms. 
Thus  the  owner  pictured  it,  adding  that  he  had  realized 
$50  a  month  rent  for  a  long  period,  and  had  never  been 
assessed  for  taxation. 

[423] 


It  was  a  very  alluring  proposition,  and  my  first  im- 
pulse was  to  close  the  deal  at  once,  lest  it  get  away  from 
me.  But  prudence  dictated  a  little  probing. 

Replies  to  letters  of  inquiry  developed  these  facts: 
That  three  years  previously  the  postomce  had  been  dis- 
continued and  every  house  in  town  except  this  one  taken 
down  and  removed  to  Johannesburg  (being  of  cement  it 
could  not  be  moved)  ;  that  it  had  never  been  occupied  by 
store,  postomce,  or  anything  else ;  and  finally  that  it  oc- 
cupied unsurveyed  government  land,  and  hence  was  not 
taxable!  A  cement  house  in  the  desert,  with  a  woeful 
past,  and  a  more  woeful  future!  I  looked  up  that  owner, 
and  forced  him  to  reimburse  me  for  my  outlay  in  dis- 
closing his  rascality. 

But  this  incident  discounts  the  one  just  related :  For 
a  Los  Angeles  property  I  was  offered  in  exchange  a  40- 
acre  ranch  in  the  northern  part  of  the  county,  twenty 
acres  in  alfalfa,  twenty  acres  raw  land.  Providing  the 
two  "flowing  wells"  would  furnish  sufficient  water  to 
irrigate  the  entire  tract,  it  would  be  an  acceptable 
"swap."  I  inspected  the  ranch  and  was  pleased  with  its 
appearance.  A  mammoth  reservoir  was  well  nigh  over- 
flowing. The  wells  didn't  "flow,"  but  there  was  a  fine 
pumping  plant  on  the  place,  and  I  requested  that  it  be  put 
in  motion.  The  engine  worked  handsomely,  like  a  thing 
of  life,  but  not  a  drop  of  water  issued  from  the  pump. 
The  circumstance  amazed  the  owner  even  more  than  it 
did  me,  but  after  a  hurried  consultation  with  his  fore- 
man, he  divested  himself  of  boots,  waded  into  the  reser- 
voir and  turned  a  lever,  when  straightaway  a  generous 
flow  came  from  the  pump.  Something  was  said  about 
a  "converting  lever,"  but  it  didn't  impress  me  at  the  time, 
and  everything  being  shown  to  my  satisfaction  the  ex- 
change was  made.  Several  months  later,  after  I  had 
disposed  of  the  ranch,  the  true  inwardness  of  that  manip- 

[424] 


Mission    Home    Built    by    the    Author    at    Santa    Barbara 
Author's    Bungalow   in   South    Pasadena 
Home   of   the   Author   in    Oneonta   Park 


ulation  of  a  "converting  lever"  was  disclosed.  The 
owner  had  operated  the  pump  eighteen  consecutive 
hours  before  the  date  of  my  visit,  in  order  to  make  a 
showing  of  a  vast  supply  in  the  reservoir;  but  he  had 
overdone  the  trick,  leaving  the  well  dry.  However,  he 
had  previously  run  a  four-inch  pipe  line  from  reservoir 
to  well,  and  at  will  could  turn  a  lever  and  empty  the 
former  into  the  latter.  Thus,  when  I  viewed  the  oper- 
ation, four  inches  of  water  was  being  emptied  into  the 
well  while  the  pump  was  lifting  but  two  inches  out  of  it. 
Had  I  been  at  all  suspicious  of  such  trickery,  1  would 
soon  have  witnessed  the  phenomenon  of  the  water  dis- 
appearing from  the  reservoir  faster  than  it  was  being 
pumped  into  it.  I  should  never  have  known  the  trick 
played  upon  me  had  not  the  rascal  returned  to  the 
neighborhood  at  a  later  period  and  boasted  of  his 
achievement. 

Joyous  to  me  of  all  the  months  in  later  years  was 
September,  1912,  when  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic 
held  its  national  encampment  in  Los  Angeles.  Stellar 
feature  of  the  function  was  the  presence  in  all  of  the 
parades  and  at  all  of  the  receptions  of  the  George  W. 
Cook  Drum  Corps  and  Band,  of  Denver,  which  I  had 
assisted  in  organizing  thirty  years  previously.  The 
corps  consists  of  eighty  men  and  three  girls,  all  wearing 
an  attractive  uniform.  The  piece  de  resistance  of  this 
band  is  a  patriotic  musical  number  entitled  "The  Battle 
of  Gettysburg,"  its  production  occupying  from  half  to 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  This,  I  believe,  has  never 
been  attempted  by  any  other  musical  organization  in 
America.  It  has  been  a  feature  of  every  national  en- 
campment of  the  Grand  Army  for  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century.  In  recognition  of  my  early  efforts  in  be- 
half of  the  corps,  and  because  I  had  been  the  author  of 
the  prelude  to  the  "Battle  of  Gettysburg,"  General  Cook 

[425] 


gave  me  position  at  the  head  of  the  line,  and  I  was  per- 
mitted to  carry  a  handsome  banner  presented  to  the  corps 
by  the  ladies  of  Denver. 

Proud  the  day  I  thus  marched  with  old  comrades  up 
the  slopes  of  Fort  Hill,  traversed  by  General  Fremont's 
command,  way  back  in  the  dim  distant  past !  What  mem- 
ories it  invoked!  What  thrills!  What  glorious  climax 
to  gladsome  reunion! 

Securing  transportation  for  the  corps,  I  heartily 
enjoyed  a  day  with  my  former  Colorado  comrades  at 
Catalina  Island,  helping  them  to  a  side  trip  in  glass- 
bottomed  boats,  where  for  the  first  time  they  viewed  the 
indescribable  wonders  of  the  great  deep.  That  they  fully 
appreciated  the  privilege  may  be  judged  from  what  fol- 
lows: 

Headquarters  of  the 

Geo.  W.  Cook  Drum  Corps  and  Band, 

City  Hall,  Denver,  Colo., 

Mr.  C.  C.  Davis,  October  19,  1912. 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 
Dear  Sir: 

At  our  last  meeting  the  following  was  adopted: 
Resolved,  That  we  tender  our  most  heartfelt  thanks 
to  Mr.  C.  C.  Davis  for  his  great  kindness  in  making  it 
possible  for  us  to  visit  the  Santa  Catalina  Island,  while 
attending  the  G.  A.  R.  National  Encampment  at  Los 
Angeles,  September  9  to  14.  To  show  our  appreciation 
of  his  great  kindness,  be  it  further 

Resolved,  That  he  be  elected  an  honorary  member  of 
this  organization,  and  that  he  be  presented  with  one  of 
the  official  badges  of  the  corps,  to  be  mailed  to  him  by 
our  Leader.  We  trust  that  he  will  receive  this  token  of 
our  appreciation  and  friendship,  and  that  he  will  wear  it 
with  pleasure  to  himself  and  honor  to  our  organization. 
Hoping  that  Providence  will  make  his  declining  years 
the  most  happy  ones,  we  subscribe  ourselves, 

THE  GEO.  W.  COOK  DRUM  CORPS  AND  BAND, 

G.  H.  B.  Heale,  Leader. 

[426] 


An  astigmatic  friend  once  pronounced  me  a  "born 
promoter."  I  reflected  that  I  had  been  quite  successful 
in  promoting  public  interests,  and  might  achieve  for 
myself.  I  therefore  organized  the  Industries  Invest- 
ment Company,  and  became  its  active  manager.  I  was 
not  disposed  to  despise  the  day  of  small  things,  and  am 
sure  I  should  have  been  moderately  successful  in  hand- 
ling the  propositions  put  up  to  us;  but  my  associates 
scorned  these,  and  voted  to  list  only  such  schemes  as 
were  beyond  our  reach.  To  be  sure,  we  booked  a  few 
hundred  million  acres  of  Mexican  land,  and  formed  a 
quasi  partnership  with  a  coterie  of  distinguished  Mexi- 
can statesmen,  one  at  least  a  member  of  Porfirio  Diaz 
cabinet ;  but  the  display  of  their  names  on  our  stationery 
had  the  effect  only  of  raising  a  doubt  as  to  our  integrity. 
Real  investors  naturally  judged  us  by  the  company  we 
kept.  I  came  very  near  realizing  $150,000  on  one  deal, 
the  Sonora  Land  Company  taking  that  profit  a  short 
time  after  our  option  expired. 

The  Industries  Investment  Company  finally  went  out 
of  business,  having  lost  everything  but  honor,  and  we 
had  a  close  shave  on  that.  We  had  undertaken  to  pro- 
mote the  purchase  of  a  Chinese  junk,  full  armored,  its 
cabin  filled  with  all  of  the  instruments  of  torture  used 
by  the  Oriental  pirates,  the  craft  manned  by  a  native 
crew.  This  vessel  was  to  be  anchored  in  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia waters  and  opened  to  visitors  until  it  should  lose 
its  novelty,  when  it  was  to  be  put  in  the  excursion  trade. 

Negotiations  had  been  about  concluded  with  the  na- 
tive governor  of  a  province  when  the  imperial  govern- 
ment at  Pekin  fired  a  "firman"  at  us,  prohibiting  the  sail- 
ing of  the  vessel.  No  armed  craft  had  ever  been  per- 
mitted to  leave  Chinese  waters,  and  the  traditions  and 
customs  of  five  thousand  years  were  not  to  be  waived, 
even  at  the  behest  of  the  Industries  Investment  Co.  But 

[427] 


our  "go-between/*  the  shrewd  chap  we  had  dispatched  to 
the  Orient  to  make  all  the  preliminary  arrangements, 
did  not  propose  to  be  balked  by  a  firman  issuing  from  the 
titular  head  of  a  paltry  four  hundred  million  people ;  and 
without  hint  to  us  of  his  purpose,  he  had  a  Chinese  junk 
built  at  a  North  Pacific  ship  yard,  after  plans,  specifica- 
tions and  photographs  secured  by  him  in  China.  This, 
after  exposure  to  the  elements  for  a  few  months,  to  give 
it  the  color  of  antiquity,  he  proposed  to  palm  off  on  us 
and  the  California  public  as  genuine.  But  we  got  a  tip 
in  time  to  save  our  good  name,  if  not  our  good  dollars 
expended,  and  to  cancel  a  tentative  contract  entered  into 
with  an  electric  corporation,  thus  washing  our  hands  of 
the  whole  blooming  junk  business. 

The  Industries  Investment  Company,  during  its  rel- 
atively brief  career,  did  harm  to  no  one,  and  retired  with 
honor,  all  claims  against  it  adjusted.  I  was  by  no  means 
discouraged  or  out  of  conceit  with  my  equipment  as  a 
promoter.  The  Industries  Investment  Co.  fiasco  was 
not  properly  chargeable  to  me.  It  is  not  easy  for  any- 
body to  sell  what  he  hasn't  got  to  people  who  don't  want 
it. 

My  next  venture  was  more  letgitimate,  and  although 
its  success  depends  upon  developments  in  the  future,  it  at 
least  promises  handsome  returns.  This  consisted  in  the 
exchange  of  Cuban  lands  for  the  California  rights  to 
manufacture  and  sell  cement  products  under  the  Sawyer 
system  of  plural  moulds,  my  holding  in  the  company 
earned  by  promoting  activity.  As  I  write,  the  Cement 
Age  is  dawning,  the  cement  sky  already  wears  a  ruddy 
hue.  Associating  with  me  a  number  of  prominent  Los 
Angeles  gentlemen,  the  California  Unit  Brick  and  Tile 
Co.  was  organized,  and  I  became  a  director  and  Sec- 
retary, and  finally  President.  It  is  a  holding  company, 
its  profits  to  come — with  emphasis  on  the  "to  come" — 

[428] 


upon  the  sale  of  territorial  rights  and  upon  royalties. 
Paid  emissaries  are  going  about  the  country,  telling  lurid 
stones  about  our  wares,  leaving  the  old  and  withered 
head  of  the  concern  in  the  handsomely  appointed  offices 
at  Los  Angeles,  employing  odd  moments  in  putting  the 
finishing  touches  to  this  volume  of  recollections  of  a  busy 
life,  punctuated  with  successes  and  failures,  but  always, 
I  believe,  inspired  by  high  ideals  and  more  or  less  decent 
purposes. 


[429] 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

THE  CASE  SUBMITTED  TO  A  JURY  OF  MY  PEERS — WHAT 
SHALL  THE  VERDICT  BE? 

I  have  reached  the  end  of  my  narrative.  It  is  an  odd 
story  of  an  unique  career.  If  it  shall  have  failed  to  con- 
vey a  message  and  taught  a  lesson,  it  will  to  me  be  a  dis- 
tinct disappointment,  and  I  shall  feel  as  if  my  candor  had 
been  wasted;  for  I  have  hoped  that  it  would  be  more 
than  a  book  of  entertainment,  more  than  a  simple  rela- 
tion of  incidents  in  the  life  of  a  busy  man,  more  than 
an  impressionist  picture  of  events  occuring  along  a 
more  or  less  picturesque  course  of  wandering.  I  have 
hoped  that  the  younger  reader,  by  reading  between  the 
lines,  might  glean  some  profitable  deductions  from  its 
perusal.  Carefully  read  and  inwardly  digested,  he 
should  be  able  to  gather  some  useful  pointers  from  my 
varied  experiences. 

Endowed  with  perhaps  an  abnormal  amount  of 
egotism,  I  doubtless  have  enlarged  upon  my  achieve- 
ments ;  as  an  offset  I  at  the  same  time  have  candidly  con- 
fessed to  blunders  and  conceded  errors  by  no  means 
flattering.  It  will  be  remembered  that  I  was  living  in 
a  peculiar  atmosphere,  in  a  community  of  heterogenious 
elements,  the  counterpart  of  which  never  before  had  been 
witnessed.  And,  by  way  of  further  extenuation,  I  may 
always  plead  that  I  had  been  brought  into  the  world  only 
half  made  up,  and  never  should  have  been  born  at  all. 
I  stated  that  conviction  in  the  opening  chapter  of  this 
volume. 

In  his  definition  of  Success  I  think  Mr.  Belford,  in 

[430] 


"An  Appreciation,"  is  correct.  It  is  what  a  man  does, 
and  not  what  he  swipes  and  stows  away,  that  spells 
Success.  He  is  good  enough  to  declare  that  in  his  opin- 
ion my  career  has  been  monumentally  successful,  and 
he  adds  that  "there  is  not  enough  in  the  manuscript 
about  the  Author."  Those  who  are  inclined  to  agree 
with  him  on  that  point  may  have  recourse  to  the  "Ap- 
pendix," where  is  massed  a  compendium  of  flattering 
testimonials  by  contemporaries  of  the  press.  I  regret 
that  I  was  not  nearly  so  careful  in  clipping  and  preserv- 
ing "testimonials"  of  a  different  character,  for  I  surely 
would  have  included  some  few  samples  of  the  "roasts" 
with  which  from  time  to  time  I  was  favored  by  my 
"esteemed  contemporaries."  In  the  absence  of  these  I 
am  constrained  to  allow  that  the  wicked  things  said 
about  me  would  easily  fill  a  large  volume.  It  is  one  of 
the  privileges  of  the  editor  to  be  abused  by  men  who  do 
not  relish  having  the  truth  told  about  them.  I  have  been 
rather  merciless  in  my  condemnation  of  wrong  and  in 
my  castigation  of  wrong-doers,  and  in  consequence  I 
have  harvested  a  formidable  army  of  detractors  and 
more  or  less  belicose  enemies.  I  probably  was  the  most 
cordially  detested  individual  in  Leadville.  Actions  for 
libel  in  a  multiplicity  of  cases  abundantly  attest  this 
fact.  If  one  really  desires  to  know  what  kind  of  a  fellow 
I  was,  he  should  consult  the  files  of  the  other  papers, 
teeming  with  illuminating  literature  of  a  nature  dis- 
tinctly personal.  Nevertheless  I  may  say,  as  did  Col. 
Joyce  upon  an  historical  occasion,  that  while  I  may 
have  puffed  smoke  in  the  window  of  some  official  Essex, 
I  never  trampled  upon  the  royal  robes  of  the  virgin 
queen."  At  least  I  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  always 
paying  my  debts.  Why,  the  credit  man  of  a  Chicago 
paper  house  once  said:  "Stop!  Don't  let  him  go!  I 
want  to  see  the  man  who  pays  for  his  goods  before  he 

[431] 


gets  them — the  only  Davis  on  our  books  who  isn't  a  lame 
duck!" 

Speaking  of  the  Davis  family,  I  should  not  omit  a 
story  about  one  of  them.  It  was  at  a  social  function,  at 
the  home  of  a  very  devout  man,  who  scrupulously  ob- 
served the  custom  of  saying  or  having  said  grace  before 
the  breaking  of  bread.  It  was  a  numerous  and  a  lordly 
company,  and  when  all  were  seated  the  host — and  I  was 
conscious  that  his  eyes  were  focused  upon  me — with 
great  solemnity  declared  that  "Mr.  Davis  will  now  ask 
the  Divine  blessing."  In  the  moment  that  followed,  a 
moment  that  seemed  a  full  hour,  I  am  sure  I  heard  my 
own  heart  beat.  But  in  his  own  good  time,  provokingly 
deliberate  man  that  he  was,  the  Reverend  William  Davis 
arose  from  his  seat  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  and 
began  his  supplication !  It  was  an  awful  moment.  Few 
know  how  much  of  human  suffering  may  be  crowded 
into  the  sixtieth  part  of  a  second! 

I  was  on  the  point  of  registering  a  boast  that  I  never 
did  anything  actionable  under  the  criminal  statutes ;  but 
I  recall  the  circumstance  that  once  I  was  apprehended 
for  publishing  a  challenge  to  mortal  combat,  a  penal 
offense  under  Colorado  laws.  This  constituted  one  of 
the  most  humorous  incidents  of  my  career.  Arrested 
and  taken  before  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  for  preliminary 
hearing,  I  asked  that  a  bailiff  be  permitted  to  go  out  with 
me  in  search  of  bondsmen.  Without  responding  to  my 
request,  the  Justice  laboriously  filled  out  the  blanks  of 
an  official  bond,  and,  signing  it  himself  as  a  surety  and 
handing  it  over  to  the  bailiff  for  his  signature,  two  only 
being  required,  he  perfunctorily  filed  it  away,  and  bid 
me  a  very  good  morning! 

That  was  the  last  I  ever  heard  of  the  case.  On  the 
way  to  the  court  I  had  called  upon  my  lawyer,  Hon. 
Charles  Cavender,  now  a  Colorado  District  Judge,  and 

[432] 


LA  UNICA  RANCHO 

Approach   to   Author's   Home,    San    Gabriel   Valley 


taken  him  with  me.  Returning  to  my  office  with  him, 
I  treated  him  to  a  twenty-five  cent  Perfecto — and  that 
was  all  the  retainer  he  ever  received. 

Technically  I  was  guilty.  The  advertising  columns 
that  very  morning  contained  the  challenge  in  bold  black 
type,  though  I  had  not  seen  it.  The  clerk  had  received 
it  in  the  course  of  business  the  day  before,  and,  because 
of  its  nature,  had  charged  an  exhorbitant  fee  for  its 
insertion.  It  was  a  narrow  escape.  A  less  friendly 
Judge  might  with  perfect  propriety  have  held  me  to  the 
Criminal  Court  on  the  charge,  and  he  as  easily  might 
have  been  more  exacting  with  regard  to  the  financial 
standing  of  the  sureties  offered! 

Almost  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  a  wise  Doctor 
looked  me  over  with  great  minuteness,  taking  various 
measurements  of  my  anatomy,  skillfully  manipulating 
the  stethoscope  and  other  mysterious  surgical  appliances, 
and  carefully  jotting  down  in  note-book  the  data  thus 
accumulated,  the  while  looking  the  personification  of 
solemnity.  The  result  was  entirely  too  suggestive,  too 
alarming,  for  discussion  in  my  presence.  The  truth  must 
be  unfolded  to  me  gradually  and  delicately,  lest  it  pro- 
duce too  great  a  shock.  Then  to  my  most  intimate  friend 
outside  the  family  the  terrible  fact  was  disclosed  that  I 
was  marked  for  the  Reaper.  "How  long,  Doctor?"  tim- 
idly yet  fearfully  inquired  my  anxious  friend.  "Oh, 
that  is  uncertain.  A  year,  possibly — three  months,  prob- 
ably." "My  heavens!  Doctor,  what  can  it  be?  What 
is  the  nature  of  the  ailment?"  "Well,  we  can't  tell  ex- 
actly— a  spinal  lesion.  If  I  must  give  it  a  name  I  should 
pronounce  it  locomotor  attaxia.  Your  friend  should  put 
his  affairs  in  shape  as  soon  as  possible!" 

I  was  given  twenty- four  hours  in  which  to  return  to 
Leadville  and  dispose  of  the  product  of  seventeen  years 
of  strenuous  effort. 

[433] 


I  fell  for  the  Science  of  Medical  Jurisprudence.  And 
for  more  than  twenty  years  I  have  been  bemoaning  my 
folly.  The  Doctor?  Oh,  he  has  been  dead  these  dozen 
years  past.  He  was  a  perfectly  healthy,  robust  specimen 
of  physical  manhood  when  he  pronounced  sentence  upon 
me.  I  long  since  forgave  him.  Twelve  other  Doctors 
subsequently  confirmed  his  diagnosis.  My  escape  from 
death 

Remains  no  less  a  myracle 
Of  Him  who  turns  the  proud  resolves  of  Kings 
To  mockery,  or  guides  them  to  the  end 
By  the  most  slender  thread. 

The  twenty  years  of  convalesence  have  not  been  in 
vain.  I  have  enjoyed  a  few  comfortable  hours.  I  have 
been  happier  than  ever  before.  I  have  learned  much. 
With  Burns  I  may  affirm  that — 

It's  no  in  titles  nor  in  rank ; 
It's  no  in  wealth  like  Lon'on's  bank, 
To  purchase  peace  and  rest. 
It's  no  in  makin'  muckle  mair, 
It's  no  in  books,  it's  no  in  lear, 

To  make  us  truly  blest : 
If  happiness  hae  not  her  seat 

An'  center  in  the  breast, 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 
But  never  can  be  blest ; 

Nae  treasures  nor  pleasures 
Could  make  us  happy  lang; 

The  heart  ay's  the  part  aye 

That  makes   us   right  or   wrong. 


[424] 


APPENDIX. 

Summary   of   More   Recent   Developments   in   the   Leadville 

Mining  District,  by  Henry  C.  Butler,  Editor 

Herald-Democrat. 

"Chance,"  that  fickle  and  uncertain  goddess,  is  usually  credited  with  presiding 
at  the  birth  of  most  mining  camps.  Mere  casual  and  fortuitous  circumstances 
have  frequently  combined  to  bring  to  light  hidden  treasures,  and  the  most  trivial 
accidents  are  responsible  for  revealing  bonanzas  whose  existence  was  never 
dreamed  of  before.  The  story  of  the  early  Leadville  is  no  exception  to  the  rule, 
for  men  gave  little  heed  to  bald  geological  discussion,  and  dry  technical  details 
relating  to  that  bit  of  the  earth's  crust  under  which  such  fabulous  deposits  of 
carbonate  ore  had  been  discovered. 

But  in  the  early  nineties  mining  men  had  in  th.eir  possession  a  mass  of 
geological  data  on  which  they  could  predicate  certain  very  definite  conclusions. 
Men  were  willing  to  "gamble"  in  mining  with  the  same  enthusiasm  and  the  same 
daring,  but  they  wanted  an  even  break  with  Nature,  and  the  science  of  geology 
became  a  handmaiden  whose  assistance  was  always  actively  in  demand,  and  she 
was  most  generous  in  her  rewards. 

The  development  of  the  Leadville  Gold  Belt  was  made  possible  by  a  careful 
study  of  surrounding  conditions.  It  had  been  determined,  with  a  fair  degree  of 
accuracy,  that  the  great  ore  channels  or  shoots  had  a  general  northeast  and 
southwest  direction,  and  this  important  generalization,  established  after  a  dozen 
years  of  careful  study,  furnished  the  clue  to  the  discovery  of  the  famous  Ibex 
mine,  with  its  marvelous  record  of  millions  in  gold.  The  great  mineral  belt  at 
that  time  comprised  Fryer,  Carbonate  and  Iron  hills,  but  beyond  these  to  the  east, 
Breece  hill  remained  without  the  sisterhood,  a  Cinderella  still  sitting  in  her  rags 
awaiting  the  coming  of  Prince  Charming.  Surface  prospect  work  had  shown  no 
indications  of  extensive  mineralization,  but  beyond,  to  the  northeast,  a  solitary 
mine,  known  as  the  New  Year,  had  revealed  the  presence  of  surface  ores  of  con- 
siderable value.  The  Little  Ellen,  in  the  same  section,  was  also  productive,  but 
they  were  far  removed  from  the  active  silver-lead  producing  areas. 

If  the  Leadville  ore  deposits  extended  northeast  and  southw.est,  the  continua- 
tion of  the  outcrop  deposits  of  the  New  Tear  and  Little  Ellen  must  certainly 
be  found  in  Breece  hill,  providing  sufficient  depth  could  be  attained.  It  was  such 
reasoning  as  this  which  led  the  pioneers  in  the  Ibex,  John  F.  Campion  and  James 
J.  Brown,  to  undertake  the  development  of  the  Little  Johny  claim,  and  they 
secured  substantial  financial  backing  from  George  W.  Trimble  and  A.  V.  Hunter, 
prominent  bankers  of  Leadville.  Both  Mr.  Campion  and  Mr.  Brown  had  been 
carrying  on  mining  operations  in  other  portions  of  the  district,  and  their  enter- 
prises were  unusually  successful.  Mr.  Brown  had  been  superintendent  of  the 
Maid  and  Henriet  Mining  company,  a  Smith-Moffatt  enterprise,  while  Mr.  Campion 
is  credited  with  having  opened  up  several  or.e  shoots  in  the  Leadville  basin,  which 
first  revealed  the  wealth  of  that  portion  of  the  district. 

The  sinking  of  the  first  Ibex,  or  Little  Johny  shaft,  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
most  difficult  undertakings  ever  carried  to  completion  in  Leadville.  It  was 
necessary  to  sink  through  beds  of  quicksand,  and  in  order  to  keep  the  shaft  from 
caving,  heavy  timbers  were  driven  in  endways.  The  work  proved  to  be  enor- 
mously expensive,  but  having  put  their  hands  to  the  plow  these  men  decided  to 
see  it  through  to  the  end,  and  the  soundness  of  their  judgment  was  fully  justified, 
for  in  1893  the  shaft  reached  the  ore  body,  and  from  that  year  to  the  present 
time — 1916 — the  production  of  ore  has  been  continuous. 

The  effect  of  the  "Little  Johny  discovery"  was  magical,  although  the  owners 
were  not  anxious  to  give  out  any  information.  Leadville  seemed  to  take  on  new 
life,  particularly  as  the  chief  value  in  the  ore  was  gold.  In  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed a  number  of  new  mines  had  been  opened,  and  the  district  had  established 
itself  on  a  more  permanent  basis  than  ever.  Such  minjes  as  the  New  Monarch, 
the  Fanny  Rawlings,  the  Garbutt,  the  Resurrection,  the  Dolly  B,  the  Little  Vinnie, 
the  Fortune,  the  Big  Four,  the  Bix  Six,  the  P.enn,  the  Ballard  and  the  Luema 
have  been  added  to  the  galaxy  of  producers,  and  their  combined  output  may  be 
safely  estimated  at  one  hundred  million  dollars. 

With  Leadville's  mining  industry  now  assured  and  established  by  the  opening 
of  a  far  wider  area  than  had  before  been  dreamed  of,  there  came  new  confidence. 
The  Smith-Moffatt  combination  had  opened  large  ore  bodi.es  in  the  Leadville 
basin,  on  the  eastern  edge  of  the  city,  in  the  early  90s,  but  this  whole  territory 
had  been  practically  abandoned,  after  the  labor  strike  of  1896,  and  miles  of  work- 
ings were  flooded. 

Another  chapter  in  the  history  of  Leadville  was  written  when,  in  1899,  the 
task  of  unwatering  the  Penrose  and  other  properties  was  undertaken  by  Major 
A.  V.  Bohn,  who  organized  the  Home  Mining  company  for  that  purpose.  Many 

[435] 


mining  men  were  somewhat  skeptical  of  the  outcome,  believing  that  the  Smith- 
Moffatt  combination  had  practically  taken  out  all  the  value.  The  Home  company, 
however,  proved  a  most  successful  venture,  and  the  result  was  the  mining  oper- 
ations in  this  particular  area  received  a  most  remarkable  impetus,  and  the  basin 
underlying  the  eastern  part  of  the  city  was  the  scene  of  active  mining  until  1907, 
when  mining  again  ceased,  owing  to  the  fall  in  the  price  of  metals,  due  to  the 
world-wide  panic  of  that  year. 

In  the  prosaic  days  of  the  twentieth  century,  with  the  mining  industry  solidly 
and  substantially  based  on  well  understood  lin,es,  and  with  the  character  and 
nature  of  the  ore  deposits  well  understood,  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  there 
were  any  more  surprises  in  store  for  Leadville.  And  yet  at  a  time  when  the 
situation  was  at  a  low  ebb,  on  account  of  the  dullness  of  the  metal  markets,  the 
decreasing  grade  of  the  ores,  and  the  timidity  of  capital  in  the  matter  of  mining 
investments,  the  fickle  goddess  of  Chance  once  more  waved  her  wand,  and  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  mining  and  the  metallurgical  world,  of  miner  and 
scientist  alike,  an  entirely  unexpected  form  of  mineralization  was  discovered, 
which  has  since  proved  to  be  one  of  the  bulwarks  of  Leadville' s  prosperity. 

Zinc  ores  abounded  in  the  Leadville  district,  but,  so  far  as  anyone  knew,  only 
in  the  form  of  sulphide.  In  early  days  zinc,  when  found  in  combination  with  the 
other  metals,  was  a  detriment,  as  it  could  not  be  saved  in  the  process  of  smelting 
with  gold,  silver,  lead  and  copper,  but  had  a  tendency  to  clog  the  furnaces,  and 
consequently,  its  presence  being  undesirable,  resulted  in  a  penalty  being  imposed 
by  the  smelters.  By  1900,  however,  high  grade  zinc  sulphide  ores  found  a  market, 
and  zinc  mining  became  part  of  the  recognized  business  of  the  district. 

The  grade  of  the  ore,  however,  gradually  became  lower  as  the  richer  sulphides 
were  worked  out,  and  it  looked  as  if  this  resource  were  soon  to  be  a  thing  of 
the  past,  when,  in  the  summer  of  1910,  some  casual  tests  showed  the  existence  of 
zinc  in  a  form  hitherto  unsuspected.  Carbonate  of  zinc,  or  sniithsonite,  and  cal- 
amine,  or  silicate  of  zinc,  are  well  known  minerals,  but  miners,  geologists,  metal- 
lurgists and  mineralogists  had  been  walking  through  immense  deposits  of  these 
ores  in  the  Leadville  mines  without  suspecting  their  existence  in  commercial  quan- 
tities. 

Fryer  hill,  scene  of  the  earliest  mining  activity,  was  the  center  of  the  first 
excitement.  The  Hayden  mine,  which  had  already  been  abandoned,  developed 
an  immense  body  of  the  mineral,  and,  as  the  demand  for  spelter  was  very  good, 
there  was  little  difficulty  in  marketing  the  ore. 

The  Western  Mining  company's  properties  on  Carbonate  hill  took  on  a  new 
lease  of  life.  The  Western  company  had  taken  over  the  Maid  of  Erin,  the  Henriet, 
the  Wolftone,  and  other  famous  early-day  bonanzas,  and  the  new  consolidation, 
under  the  management  of  Hon.  Samuel  D.  Nicholson,  had  been  very  successful. 
Mr.  Nicholson  had  been  identified  with  mining  in  the  Leadville  district  since  early 
days,  and  his  ability  as  a  mining  man  had  been  clearly  demonstrated  in  connection 
with  many  important  enterprises.  The  Guggenheim  interests  controlled  the  West- 
ern company,  and  Mr.  Nicholson  was  placed  in  charge  as  general  manager,  he 
himself  being  one  of  the  large  stockholders.  The  presence  of  the  oxidized  zinc 
in  this  territory  soon  enabled  the  Western  company  to  add  enormously  to  its 
tonnage,  and  other  large  mines  were  enabled  similarly  to  increase  their  output. 

The  story  of  the  Upper  Arkansas  Valley  begins  with  placer  mining  in  the  rich 
beds  of  California  gulch.  That  was  in  1860,  when  only  the  most  primitive  methods 
of  separation  were  possible.  In  1911  placer  mining  again  received  a  most  remark- 
able impetus  by  the  introduction  of  the  gold  dredge.  The  installation  of  a  dredge 
costing  $125,000  on  the  old  Derry  ranch,  by  the  Derry  Ranch  Gold  Dredging  com- 
pany, marked  an  important  epoch  in  Leadville  history.  The  plant  has  been 
taking  a  thousand  dollars  a  day  from  ground  that  had  never  been  supposed 
to  be  practically  workable,  and  gives  assurance  of  long  continued  productivity. 

The  remarkable  advance  in  the  price  of  all  the  metals  has  created  a  new 
prosperity  for  Leadville.  In  1916  three  great  pumping  enterprises  were  under  way, 
in  as  many  drainage  areas,  for  the  purpose  of  reopening  old  mines  and  penetrating 
greater  depths.  The  men  of  '79  were  inspired  by  hope,  courage  and  enthusiasm, 
and  the  men  of  1916  are  demonstrating  the  same  indomitable  qualities. 

A  Few  Excerpts  from  the  Contemporary  Press. 

WHILE  VISITING   THE   METROPOLIS 

(New  York  Daily  Graphic,   March   11,   1881) 

*  *  *  In  two  years  Mr.  Davis  has  built  up  a  business  worth  $50,000, 
and  owns  besides  considerable  bank  stock,  mining  shares  and  mining  property 
in  Lake,  Gunnison  and  Summit  Counties.  His  Alma  Mater  was  a  printing  office, 
the  education  of  so  many  of  our  public  men.  He  is  a  stalwart  Republican,  and 
his  paper  is  a  power  in  the  councils  of  the  party  in  Colorado.  His  success  dem- 
onstrates what  can  be  done  in  the  West  by  young  men  having  the  ability,  industry 
and  perseverance  of  Mr.  Davis. 

WHILE  PASSING  THROUGH  NEW  MEXICO 

(Los  Vegas   Daily   Optic,    1886) 

"Cad"  Davis,  as  he  is  familiarly  known,  founded  that  phenomenal  newspaper, 
the  Leadville  Evening  Chronicle,  and  he  has,  through  good  and  evil  reports,  and 
all  sorts  of  brilliant  encouragements  and  profound  discouragements,  remained 
with  the  great  carbonate  camp  with  unflinching  faith  and  courage,  until  today  he 
is  the  owner  of  all  the  newspapers  in  Leadville.  and  has  accumulated  a  hand- 
some fortune.  Hundreds  of  men  have  been  in  his  employ  for  the  past  seven 

[436] 


years,  and  not  one  of  them,  ever  left  his  service  who  would  not  flght  for  him 
afterwards.  He  always  paid  the  highest  salaries  and  n^ver  missed  a  pay-roll. 
A  capital  writer,  and  thorough  newspaper  man,  comprehending  every  detail 
of  the  business,  he  is  acknowledged  to  be  the  best  journalist  in  Colorado,  and  hia 
merits  as  a  man  are  quite  equal  to  his  excellence  in  the  newspaper  field.  He 
has  been  contemporaneous  with  every  phase  of  journalism  in  the  greatest  mining 
camp  of  modern  times  since  its  foundation,  and  his  "Reminisences"  would,  if 

S rinted,  make  a  lively  as  well  as  bulky  volume.  He  Is  a  trim-built,  clear  cut, 
awk-eyed  man,  put  up  on  steel  springs,  and  there  is  no  limit  to  his  energy.  He 
is  today  exercising  a  large  influence  both  on  the  politics  and  material  weal  of 
Colorado,  and  he  will  keep  it  up  for  many  years  to  come.  He  is  one  of  the 
notable  characters  in  his  famous  State,  and  the  writer,  as  one  of  his  old  em- 
ployes, who  owes  him,  like  all  the  rest,  nothing  but  good  will  and  kindness,  is 
glad  of  the  opportunity  to  give  the  readers  of  this  journal  some  idea  of  one  of  the 
brightest,  best  known  and  most  successful  of  Western  journalists,  who  can  count 
as  his  friends  every  man  that  ever  worked  for  him. 

A  MAIN  STAY  IN  THE  SILVER  CITY 

(Denver  Times,   March  17,    1896) 

For  over  sixteen  years,  and  up  to  his  r.ecent  unfortunate  illness,  Col.  Davis 
has  been  one  of  the  main  stays  of  the  great  Silver  City.  He  has  never  faltered 
in  his  devotion  and  loyalty  to  it,  and  his  papers  have  always  had  their  columns 
open  to  its  advancement.  He  has  long  been  considered  one  of  the  most  able 
of  editorial  writers  in  Colorado,  as  well  as  one  of  the  keenest  and  most  just  of 
men  in  the  management  of  his  affairs.  The  news  of  his  illness  was  received 
with  wide  spread  sorrow,  and  that  it  should  result  in  compelling  him  to  relinquish 
much  that  he  held  dear  is  to  be  doubly  regretted.  That  the  good  wishes  of 
hundreds  of  admirers  and  friends  will  go  with  him  is  assured,  as  well  as  sincere 
hopes  for  his  ultimate  recovery. 

A  DISTINCTIVE   MARK  ON  HISTORY 

(Leadvilie  Journal,    May,    1907) 

*  *          *          Leadvilie  people  will  always  have  respectful  consideration  for 
the  opinions  of  Col.  Davis,  and   we  realize  as  the  years  roll  on,   that  in  him  the 
city  had  an  able,  forceful  mind  which  made  a  distinctive  mark  upon  the  journal- 
istic history  of  the   West. 

"ECCENTRICITY  IN   MANY  THINGS" 

(Denver  Sun.  July,   1884) 

*  *          *          Col.   Davis  has   been   with   Leadvilie    in  all    her   trying   times, 
and  his  voice  has  always  been  heard  for  what  seemed  to  him  the  true  policy  of 
the   town.      It  is  said  of  him  that  he   does  more   work  than  any  three  men  in  his 
employ.      He  is  a  clear,   cogent  and  graceful   writer,   and  an  equally  forcible  and 
clear-headed   business   man,    as   his   success   in  the   face   of  all   competition   shows. 
His  mental  bent  is  that  of  an  extremely  decisive  man.     When  he  becomes  infected 
with  an  opinion,  he  drives  it  at  the  public  with  a  sledge  hammer.     To  this  force- 
fulness    he    owes    several    dozen    very   enthusiastically    bitter  .enemies.      His    strong 
individuality    gives    him    the    popular    reputation    of    eccentricity    in    many    things. 
His    integrity    has    never    been    questioned    any    more    than    has    the    existence    of 
Leadville's   ore   vein.      His    editorial    position   and   his   decided    views   have    thrown 
him    more    or    less    into   politics.      After   the    bitterest   flght    that   ever   occurred    in 
Lake  County  he  was   sent   to   the   National   Republican  Convention   that   nominated 
Elaine.     His  friends  announced  his  name  without  consulting  his  wishes,  and  being 
once  in  the  fight  he  stayed,   despite  the  frenzy  of  antagonism  displayed  by  a  very 
influential    faction    of    the    Republican    party    which    he    had    scourged    editorially. 
Mr.  Davis  won,  but  at  the  same  time  declared  he  would  never  again  be  a  candi- 
date  for  political    honors.      This   attitude    he   has   consistently   maintained,    despite 
the   urging   of    his    candidacy    for    the    State    Senate   and    other    offices. 

FINE  COMBINATION  WHILE  IT  LASTED 

(Cincinnati  Commercial,   August   4,   1883) 

A  Leadvilie  dispatch  announces  the  purchase  of  the  Leadvilie  Democrat  by 
C.  C.  Davis,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Leadvilie  Chronicle.  *  *  *  The 
guiding  genius  of  the  latter  paper  was  Davis,  whose  dauntless  energy  and  inde- 
fatigable vigilance,  nervous  activity  and  far  seeing  shrewdness,  was  making  itself 
felt  everywhere.  A  livlier  man  never  lived.  But  for  a  brief  period  he  had  an 
able,  well  balanced,  sedate  and  logical  mind  to  act  as  a  ballast  for  the  editorial 
hold  of  the  full-rigged  little  craft — that  of  John  Arkins.  While  Davis  could  see 
and  draw  news  and  revenue  from  a  hundred  directions  at  the  same  time,  Arkins 
could  hold  level  the  political  end  of  the  booming  mining  camp.  While  Davis 
could,  with  provoking  coolness  and  a  revolver,  stand  off  the  belligerent  element 
that  tried  to  interfere  with  the  policy  of  th.e  paper,  or  could  lie  whole  nights  in 
the  cock-loft  of  the  rickety  log  "cabin  in  which  the  paper  was  printed,  with  a 
double-barrelled  shot  gun  for  his  sole  companion,  trying  to  prevent  the  office 
from  being  burned  to  the  ground,  Arkins  could  throw  hot  shell  and  dynamite 
into  the  chaotic  condition  of  society  with  the  view  of  reducing  it  to  a  degree  of 
order  and  decency.  It  was  a  fine  combination  while  it  lasted;  but  soon  Arkins 
had  to  go  into  the  valley  for  his  health.  Davis  stuck.  His  acquisition  of  the 
Democrat  indicates  his  purpose  of  monopolizing  the  newspaper  business  of  the 
lively  city  on  the  mountain  top,  and,  judging  from  his  past  achievements,  he 
will  not  be  long  in  accomplishing  his  ambitious  aim. 

[437] 


THE  PROFESSION  FITLY  RECOGNIZED 

(Denver  Republican,    May   27,    1884) 

We  heartily  congratulate  Mr.  Carlyle  C.  Davis  on  his  election  as  a  delegate- 
at-large  to  the  National  Republican  Convention,  it  is  a  compliment  to  a  good 
newspaper  man  which  all  good  newspaper  men  should  appreciate.  It  is  a  recog- 
nition of  a  generally  unrecognized  profession  which  does  a  good  deal  of  work  for 
snide  politicians  and  gets  very  little  in  return.  Barring  the  head  of  the  delegation, 
General  Wm.  A.  Hamill,  no  man  on  the  delegation  will  have  more  influence  at 
Chicago  than  Col.  Davis. 


"TOO   SCARCE  TO  DISPENSE   WITH" 

(Pueblo    Chieftain,    August    9,    1895) 

C.  C.  Davis  is  reported  to  be  noticeably  improving  since  his  removal  to  St. 
Luke's  Hospital  in  Denver.  He  takes  a  cheerful  view  of  life  in  his  new  surround- 
ings. He  has  many  friends  in  this  State  who  hope  for  his  ultimate  recovery. 
Men  of  Mr.  Davis'  stamp  in  the  editorial  harness  are  too  scarce  to  dispense  with 
him  for  many  years  yet  to  come. 


STRIKE  AND  BURN  OF  THE  INVECTIVE 

(Major  Ward,   in  the  Herald  Democrat) 

*  *  *  The  Evening  Chronicle  from  its  first  issue.  The  Herald  fn-m 
its  early  years,  and  the  Herald  Democrat  from  the  tim,e  it  was  given  its  dis- 
tinctive character,  have  been  chiefly  under  the  direction  and  management  of 
C.  C.  Davis.  Under  his  control  they  have  been  powerful  factors  in  the  life  of 
Leadville,  and,  through  the  city,  in  the  life  of  the  State.  And  they  have  been 
factors  for  good.  They  have  been  true  and  fearless.  In  the  earlier  times  they 
fought  effectively  to  curb  lawlessness  and  violence,  and  make  life  in  the  new  and 
wondrous  camp  safe  and  comfortable.  Later  they  strove  to  good  purpose  to 
establish  the  fair  and  benign  rule  of  taste  and  refinement.  They  have  advised 
and  striven  intelligently  and  successfully  for  the  making  of  the  most  of  Leadville's 
opportunities.  Mr.  Davis  has  made  his  power  felt  in  the  strike  and  the  burn  of 
the  invective  which  he  has  turned  upon  that  he  believed  to  be  wrong.  He  has, 
too,  exerted  an  influence  to  build  up,  to  restore  and  to  cheer,  in  the  strength  of 
his  advocacy,  in  the  wisdom  of  his  counsel,  and  the  kindliness  of  his  encourage- 
ment. As  he  bore  his  part  in  the  first  days  in  the  confidence  of  courage  and  the 
severity  of  justice,  so  he  has  taken  his  way  through  the  latter  times  in  the 
cheer  of  helpfulness  and  the  gentleness  of  charity.  And  along  his  ways,  through 
all  times,  there  has  been  the  bounteousness  of  generosity.  As  at  the  resistless 
demands  of  failing  health,  he  seeks  a  well  earned  rest,  all  will  wish  for  him  quick 
restoration  to  his  wonted  efficient  and  benificent  activities. 


PASSING  THROUGH  THE  WINDY  CITY 

(Chicago  Daily  News,  December  15,  1885) 

*  *  *  In  1879  he  established  the  Leadville  Evening  Chronicle.  Three 
years  ago  he  acquired  the  Morning  Democrat,  and  now  he  has  gathered  in  the 
only  other  daily  newspaper,  the  Herald.  There  has  not  been  a  public  enterprise 
in  Leadville  with  which  he  has  not  been  identified,  and  he  has  always  labored 
earnestly  in  behalf  of  the  permanent  industries  of  Colorado.  His  career  has  been 
so  full  of  earnestness,  sincerity  and  honest  industry,  that  no  one  would  deny 
him  the  success  that  has  crowned  it. 


RATHER  THAN  DESERT  A  FRIEND 

(Chicago   Record-Herald,   June    6.    1884) 

Doc  Dougan  forever!  In  a  fair  fight  for  delegate-at-large  from  Colorado 
Carlyle  C.  Davis  won  out.  Dougan  helped  him.  There  are  some  people  out  there 
who  do  not  like  Davis  because  he  told  the  truth  about  them,  and  they  started 
in  for  a  fight.  Dougan  was  President  of  the  Carbonate  National  Bank,  and  they 
came  to  him  with  a  lot  of  depositors  and  told  him  that  unless  he  would  desert 
Davis,  $150,000  of  the  deposits  would  be  withdrawn.  Rather  than  des.ert  his 
friend,  Dougan  resigned.  He  deserves  the  gratitude  of  every  newspaper  man  in 
the  country.  He  is  a  MAN. 

NEVER  FORGOTTEN  HIS  OBLIGATIONS 

(St.    Louis   Chronicle,    October    4,    1885) 

C.  C.  Davis  is  one  of  the  men  who  made  Leadville,  Colorado.  He  went  to 
that  town  when  the  boom  first  struck  it  with  75  cents.  That  was  six  years  ago. 
In  four  years  he  was  postmaster  at  $5000  a  year,  City  Clerk  at  $4000,  President 
of  the  City  National  Bank,  and  the  owner  of  three  daily  papers.  Although  a 
small  man,  Davis  is  a  "hummer."  He  has  continued  to  accumulate  riches  during 
the  past  two  years  until  now  he  has  to  call  in  his  neighbors  to  figure  up  his 
worldly  possessions.  Through  all  of  his  successes,  Mr.  Davis  has  never  forgotten 
his  obligations  to  the  public  as  a  journalist,  or  the  true  purpose  of  a  newspaper 
that  is  published  in  the  interest  of  a  community.  In  a  late  issue  he  took  occasion 
to  say:  "When  a  paper  fails  in  its  mission  in  this  regard,  it  forfeits  the  respect 
of  its  patrons  and  is  fit  only  for  universal  contempt."  That  is  the  true  ring. 
That  is  the  principle  of  a  journal  that  is  printed  in  the  interest  of  the  masses 
rather  than  In  the  interest  of  a  corrupt  clique  or  to  further  the  schemes  of 
oppressive  monopolists. 

[438] 


A  VERY  DOUBTFUL,  COMPLIMENT 

(Kansas   City   Times,    September   2.    1889) 

*          *          *          Col.    C.   C.   Davis  is  proving  himself  to  be   th,e   James   Gordon 
Bennett    of   the   West    in    newspaper    enterprise. 


"A  QUILL,  DIPPED  IN  VITRIOL" 

(Durango  Democrat) 

If  Col.  Davis  succeeds  in  opening  a  newspaper  emporium  in  Denver,  the 
kindergarten  institutions  there  will  have  to  stay  up  late  o'  night  and  arise  early 
in  the  mawhin'  to  keep  up  with  the  procession.  Davis  wields  a  pen  dipped  in 
vitriol,  and  otherwise  calculated  to  do  damage.  There  is  going  to  be  a  monkey- 
and-parrot  time  'ere  the  burros  nest  again. 


MOST  INFLUENTIAL  IN   THE   STATE 

(Hutchinson,    Kans.,    News) 

*  *  *  Mr.  Davis  is  the  most  noted  editor  in  Colorado,  and  his  papers 
the  most  influential  in  that  State,  while  at  the  same  time  the  most  independent. 
He  now  owns  all  of  the  newspapers  of  Leadville,  his  phenomenally  successful 
career  having  demonstrated  that  he  combines  those  qualities  so  rarely  found  in 
one  person,  namely,  fine  literary  talent  and  great  financial  genius. 


"WIELDED  A  POWERFUL  INFLUENCE" 

(Denver  Republican,    May,   1897) 

*  *  *  The  retirement  of  C.  C:  Davis  calls  for  a  word  of  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  long,  successful  and  honorable  career  as  a  journalist.  Mr.  Davis 
founded  the  Leadville  Chronicle,  and  subsequently  purchased  the  Democrat  and 
the  Herald.  In  this  capacity  he  wielded  a  powerful  influence  in  the  politics  of 
the  State,  as  well  as  on  its  industrial  and  commercial  progress,  and  he  at  all 
times  maintained  a  reputation  as  an  able,  brilliant  and  vigorous  journalist.  ' 
He  retires  with  the  respect  and  good  will  of  all  the  newspaper  men  of  the  State. 


A  WELCOME  HOME  BY   THE   PRESS 

(Colorado   Springs  Gazette,   May,    1897) 

All  of  the  newspapers,  and  most  of  the  people  of  Colorado,  will  welcome  the 
return  of  Col.  C.  C.  Davis  to  the  editorial  harness.  Health  partially  restored,  he 
has  accepted  the  position  of  managing  editor  of  the  Denver  Times,  since  which 
date  the  fourth  page  of  that  most  excellent  paper  has  bristled  with  the  bright 
writings  of  his  pen. 

"OBSERVES  A  MARKED  IMPROVEMENT" 

(Fort  Collins  Courier,   May,   1897) 

*  *  *  Col.  Davis  has  been  a  resident  of  Colorado  more  than  twenty 
years.  He  is  an  editorial  writer  of  exceptional  ability.  A  marked  improvement 
is  already  noticeable  in  the  editorial  columns  of  the  Denver  Times. 


"UNAWED   BY   THE   MANY   EXACTIONS" 

(Leadville   Herald   Democrat,   Feb.    4,   1899) 

The  return  of  Mr.  Carlyle  C.  Davis  to  the  field  of  active  newspaper  work 
will  be  hailed  with  gratification  by  his  many  friends  in  Leadville.  Today  the 
first  issue  of  his  new  venture,  The  Santa  Barbara,  reached  Leadville,  and  its 
reception  by  his  old  friends  would  have  gladdened  the  heart  of  its  publisher, 
had  he  been  able  to  see  it.  Many  hearty  expressions  of  praise  and  congratulation 
were  to  be  heard  as  the  neatly  printed  sheets  were  unwrapped  in  stores  and  offices 
throughout  the  city.  Editorially,  it  is  Cad  Davis  at  his  best,  and  the  evidence  of 
its  editor's  full  return  to  health  and  vigor  gave  pleasure  to  the  people  among 
whom  he  labored  so  many  years  as  a  journalistic  "guide,  counsellor  and  friend." 
We  can  wish  him  no  better  than  that  The  Santa  Barbara  shall  increase  with  the 
years  and  bring  to  him  the  same  measure  of  success  which  attended  his  labors  in 
this  field.  To  have  reared  one  such  monument  as  stands  to  testify  to  his  energy 
and  ability  in  the  Herald  Democrat  and  Chronicle  should  be  enough  to  satisfy 
the  vanity  of  the  average  man,  but  Mr.  Davis  is  not  an  average  man,  as  he 
proves  by  setting  out  boldly  in  the  afternoon  of  his  life  to  build  another  in  a  new 
land,  undaunted  by  established  contemporaries  and  unawed  by  the  exactions  the 
task  will  make  upon  his  strength.  Leadville  sends  a  cheer  for  his  daring  and 
confidence  in  his  success. 

"LIKE  A  BALMY  BREEZE  PALM  LADEN" 

(Leadville   Miner,    Feb.    4,    1899) 

*  *  *  It  is  edited  in  Mr.  Davis'  usually  happy  style,  and  comes  to 
the  frosty  old  mountains  like  a  balmy  breeze  laden  with  the  breath  of  palms  and 
of  orange  blossoms.  *  *  *  Mr.  Davis  is  certain  to  create  a  stir  in  news- 
paperdom  in  Southern  California.  The  entire  population  of  Leadville  will  wish 
him  succ.ess  in  his  new  venture. 

[439] 


"LONG  ON  GUSH,  SHORT  ON  FORESIGHT" 

(Santa  Maria  Graphic) 

*  *  *  Mr.  Davis  is  an  all  round  newspaper  man,  long  on  gush  and 
short  on  foresight.  The  make-up  and  arrangement  of  the  paper  are  far  in  the 
lead  of  any  daily  paper  we  ever  have  seen. 


A  MUCH  APPRECIATED  QUALITY 

(Santa   Barbara   Herald) 

One  apparent  dominating  characteristic  of  the  editor  of  The  Santa  Barbara 
is  his  disposition  to  hold  himself  above  the  petty  newspaper  dissensions  and 
jealousies  that  have  so  long  characterized  the  profession  in  this  town.  The 
"flings"  of  his  more  or  less  alarmed  competitors  that  greeted  his  first  arrival  were 
magnanimously  ignored  by  the  new  man,  who  astonished  the  editors  of  the  older 
sheets  by  giving  them  the  same  complimentary  mention  that  he  bestowed  upon 
other  local  institutions — the  climate,  the  scenery — in  fact,  everything  Santa 
Barbaran.  If  Mr.  Davis  persists  in  this  unusual  civility  toward  his  contem- 
poraries, we  shall  admire  him  as  much  for  his  self-denial  as  for  his  courtesy. 


GLIMPSE  OF  THE  DARING  NEW  COMER 

(Santa   Barbara   Leader) 

*  *  *  All  were  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  daring  new  comer, 
who  put  in  an  appearance  in  the  face  of  an  over-crowded  journalistic  field.  The 
journal  is  fashioned  after  the  height  of  the  printer's  art,  and  is  well  styled  in 
every  respect.  It  reads  well,  appears  modest  in  its  aspirations  and  takes  a  sensi- 
ble position  as  to  what  it  will  be.  We  hope  "The  Santa  Barbara"  will  have  a 
clear  conscience,  as  clean  a  record,  and  as  bright  an  appearance  when  it  ap- 
proaches Volume  2. 

BEST   LOOKING  DAILY   IN   CALIFORNIA 

(Santa  Barbara   Herald) 

Col.  Davis'  new  afternoon  paper  made  its  first  appearance  last  Saturday, 
and  is  by  far  the  best  looking  daily  newspaper  ever  issued  in  California. 


A   COMPETENT  MAN  AT   THE  HELM 

(Santa  Maria   Times) 

The  initial  number  of  "The  Santa  Barbara"  came  to  hand  Monday  night. 
There  appears  a  competent  man  at  the  helm,  and  a  long  string  of  competent  men 
and  women  on  its  staff,  but  just  why  its  owner  has  ventured  his  wealth  in  the 
undertaking  is  hard  to  conceive. 


"A  BATHER  STIMULATIVE  AWAKENER" 

(Los  Angeles   Herald) 

The  first  issue  of  "The  Santa  Barbara,"  a  daily  journal  published  in  its  name- 
sake city,  is  a  model  of  clean,  modern  typography,  and  proves  that  its  editor, 
Carlyle  C.  Davis,  formerly  one  of  Colorado's  most  successful  newspaper  men,  has 
implicit  confidence  in  the  future  of  the  city  by  the  sea.  Santa  Barbara  has  in 
former  days  been  characterized  as  a  delightful  but  somewhat  sleepy  place,  but 
Mr.  Davis'  paper  will  surely  act  as  a  very  stimulative  awakener. 


"WHAT  A  NEWSPAPER  OUGHT   TO  BE" 

(Los  Angeles   Times) 

The  publication  of  "The  Santa  Barbara,"  a  new  afternoon  newspaper,  has 
been  begun  at  Santa  Barbara.  if  the  promise  given  in  the  character  of  the 
first  issue  shall  be  fulfilled,  the  paper  will  be  deserving  of  liberal  patronage, 
evinces  a  comprehensive  knowledge  of  what  a  newspaper  ought  to  be,  its  matter 
is  well  written,  and  its  make-up  and  typographical  features  are  especially 
attractive.  It  has  the  Associated  Press  service,  supplemented  by  special  dis- 
patches. 

A  CONFIDENCE   BORN   OF   SUCCESS 

(Los  Angeles  Express) 

*  *         *         Mr.  Davis  has  achieved  success  both  as  an  editor  and  general 
manager  of  newspapers,  and  he  will  give  the  people  of  Santa  Barbara  an  excellent 
afternoon    paper. 

"TYPOGRAPHICALLY  AT  THE  HEAD" 

(San  Luis   Obispo   Breeze) 

*  *         *         Typographically  it  stands  at  the  head  of  the  daily  publications 
of  this  State,  renowned  for  the  excellence  of  its  daily  papers.  "The  Santa  Barbara" 
appears    to    be   a   long    way    in    advance    of    the    requirements    of    the    city    where 
published;  but  if  merit   is  the   measure  of  success  there   will   be   no  question  as  to 
the   result   of  the  venture. 

[440] 


"LIKES  ITS  TAKING  INDEPENDENCE" 

(Lompoc    Record) 

The  long  talked  of  new  dally,  "The  Santa  Barbara,"  made  Its  appearance 
Saturday  as  an  afternoon  messenger  of  news,  good  cheer,  and  cultivated  thought. 
Mr.  Davis,  in  the  Initial  number,  introduced  himself  well  and  grandly  to  the  Intel- 
ligence of  the  city  and  county.  As  a  competitor  the  new  paper  will  be  a  formid- 
able rival  to  the  other  papers,  quite  as  much  from  its  superiority  as  from  its 
taking  independence,  a  feature  much  needed  in  these  times  of  political  degen- 
eration. We  shall  watch  the  progress  of  this  new  venture  with  a  desire  to  see  it 
maintain  its  high  standard,  which  will  leave  a  wholesome  impress  and  will  elevate 
journalism. 

''BOLDEST   MARINER  ON   CHOPPY  SEA" 
(Ventura  Democrat) 

The  "Santa  Barbara"  is  the  title  of  a  brand  new  daily  newspaper  just  launched 
by  C.  C.  Davis,  the  boldest  mariner  on  the  choppy  sea  of  journalism.  We  say 
bold,  because  a  man  endowed  with  sufficient  courage  to  establish  a  daily  paper, 
equipped  with  Mergenthaler  and  other  expensive  up-to-date  machinery,  in  a 
town  like  Santa  Barbara,  already  crowded  to  suffocation  with  newspaper  offices, 
is  dallying  with  a  great  future  and  wasting  valuable  time  in  a  rickety  experiment. 
He  ought  to  emigrate  to  Spain  or  Mexico,  where  he  soon  would  command  fancy 
wages  as  a  champion  matador  at  the  bull  fights.  We  admire  nerve  and  enterprise, 
and  would  fain  extend  our  congratulations  and  best  wishes,  but  candor  compels 
us  to  say  that  we  shall  be  agreeably  disappointed  if  "The  Santa  Barbara"  should 
live  to  a  venerable  age. 

HONOR  OF  HEADING  THE  PROCESSION 

(Leadville   Herald   Democrat,    1912) 

*  *  *  Mr.  Davis  was  instrumental  in  organizing  the  "George  W. 
Cook  Drum  Corps  and  Band,"  twenty-five  years  ago,  when  he  and  General  Cook 
were  in  Leadville  together.  Hence,  it  was  particularly  appropriate  that  Gen'l 
Cook,  paying  a  nice  little  merited  compliment  to  his  early  day  Leadville  friend, 
should  tender  to  him  the  honor  of  heading  the  procession  in  the  Grand  Army 
parade  through  the  cheering  crowds  that  lined  the  streets  of  Los  Angeles. 


THE  BANK  PAID  DOLLAR  FOR  DOLLAR 

(Leadville  Herald   Democrat) 

Some  workmen  engaged  in  tearing  down  a  part  of  the  old  City  National  Bank 
building,  yesterday,  recovered  a  twenty  dollar  gold  piece  which  had  been  in  a 
rubbish  heap  for  the  past  twenty  years.  In  1881,  after  the  bank  failed,  C.  C. 
Davis  was  elected  President.  He  made  the  statement,  on  taking  charge,  that 
the  institution  should  pay  its  depositors  dollar  for  dollar.  It  did  so.  It  is  the  only 
bank  in  the  State  with  such  a  record.  But  it  cost  Davis  a  fortune  and  his  health 
to  do  it.  The  gold  piece  bears  the  date  of  1870.  It  was  found  in  a  deposit  box 
in  the  vault  which  had  been  cast  away  in  the  debris. 


PECULIAR  INTEREST  AND  GREAT  VALUE 

(Los  Angeles  Herald) 

The  leading  article  in  Out  West  for  December  is  entitled  "Ramona,  the  Real 
and  the  Ideal,"  by  Carlyle  C.  Davis,  a  veteran  Colorado  editor  and  publisher. 
Mr.  Davis  was  intimately  acquainted  with  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  and  his  knowledge 
of  the  author  and  her  work,  combined  with  his  late  residence  in  Los  Angeles, 
has  given  the  article  a  peculiar  interest  and  great  value.  Some  popular  traditions 
are  ruthlessly  exploded,  but  nothing  is  taken  from  the  recognition  that  humanity 
owes  to  Mrs.  Jackson  for  her  work,  both  in  the  practical  and  the  ideal  sense. 


THE  INSPIRATION   FOR  THE  NOVEL 

(Leadville  Herald  Democrat) 

Whatever  subject  is  touched  by  the  facile  and  graceful  pen  of  Col.  C.  C.  Davis 
is  certain  to  be  illuminated  and  clarified.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  this  to 
Leadville  people,  who  have  become  familiar  with  his  singularly  lucid  style  during 
the  period  of  his  journalistic  activities  here  as  editor  of  the  Herald  Democrat  and 
Chronicle.  He  was  by  far  the  ablest  editorial  writer  in  the  West.  For  some 
years  Mr.  Davis  has  been  a  resident  of  Los  Angeles,  and  it  would  be  strange 
indeed  if  the  singularly  romantic  history  of  that  land  of  sunshine,  its  picturesque 
ruins,  its  semi-tropic  climate,  and  its  quaint  old  peoples,  did  hot  appeal  to  his 
imagination.  We  have  before  us,  in  Out  West  magazine,  a  most  delightful  article 
of  his,  "Ramona,  the  Ideal  and  the  Real."  It  is,  in  brief,  the  story  of  Helen 
Hunt  Jackson,  the  author  of  Ramona,  "a  romance,"  Col.  Davis  says,  "the  influence 
of  which  has  been  second  to  the  production  of  but  one  other  American  novel,  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin."  In  this  article,  which  is  most  profusely  illustrated,  Col.  Davis 
seeks  to  find  the  inspiration  for  the  novel.  *  *  *  The  facts  on  which 
the  romance  is  based  are  quite  as  interesting  as  the  story  itself,  and,  told  in  Col. 
Davis'  inimitable  style,  his  article  furnishes  a  permanent  addition  to  the  history 
of  that  portion  of  the  country. 

[441] 


II  K  DID  A  GOOD  LITERARY  SERVICE 

(Los  Angeles  Express) 

Of  especial  interest  is  the  article,  "Ramona,  the  Ideal  and  the  Real,"  which 
is  the  initial  contribution  to  Out  West.  So  much  of  nonsense  has  been  written 
about  "H.  H."  and  her  Indians,  that  an  authoritative  and  sensible  article  such 
as  is  this  is  a  pleasure  to  peruse.  It  is  ftn,ely  illustrated,  and  its  writer,  Carlyle 
C.  Davis,  has  done  a  good  literary  service. 


PRONOUNCED  VALUABLE  HISTORICALLY 

(Los  Angeles  Times) 

The  leading  article  in  the  current  number  of  Out  West,  "Ramona,  the  Real 
and  the  Ideal,"  will  be  welcomed  by  all  classes  of  readers,  but  will  have  peculiar 
interest  for  the  readers  of  Helen  Hunt  Jackson's  purpose  novels,  of  which  Ramona 
was  the  most  conspicuously  entertaining  and  successful.  The  author,  Col.  C.  C. 
Davis,  enjoyed  a  life  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Jackson,  and  since  coming  to  Cal- 
ifornia has  enjoyed  exceptional  advantages  for  procuring  unpublished  facts  regard- 
ing the  inspiration  for  the  novel  from  the  idealized  characters  yet  living  here. 
In  a  singularly  pleasing  way  Mr.  Davis  tells  the  plain,  unvarnished  story,  and 
clears  away  much  of  the  fiction  that  has  attached  to  the  theme  with  the  lapse 
of  time.  The  article  is  valuable  from  an  historical  standpoint  as  well,  and  will 
take  the  place  of  many  unreliable  and  unauthentic  tales  that  have  been  printed 
and  generally  believed.  The  article  is  suitably  illustrated  with  scenes  and  por- 
traits that  give  added  relish  to  its  perusal. 


"CLARIFYING   THE   ATMOSPHERE" 

(Colorado    Springs    Gazette) 

The  friends  of  Col.  C.  C.  Davis  in  Colorado,  and  their  name  is  legion,  will 
welcome  an  illuminating  article  from  his  pen  that  appears  in  the  current  number 
of  Out  West,  the  leading  magazine  of  the  Pacific  slope,  entitled  "Ramona,  the 
Real  and  the  Ideal."  Col.  Davis  was  a  welcome  visitor  to  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Jackson  in  this  city,  enjoyed  her  confidence  to  an  unusual  degree,  and  deeply 
sympathized  with  her  life  work.  Thus  equipped,  he  has  been  able,  better  perhaps 
than  any  other  person,  to  pick  up  the  threads  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  weave 
them  into  an  interesting  story;  valuable  historically  as  well  as  entertaining.  His 
contribution  also  serves  a  well  defined  purpose  of  clarifying  Ramona  atmosphere 
and  clearing  up  many  of  the  absurd  stories  that  have  gained  credence,  but  which 
had  no  foundation  in  fact.  The  story  of  Col.  Davis  is  appropriately  illustrated 
with  scenes  and  portraits,  very  helpful  to  the  reader. 


RAMONA  WILL   NEVER  BE  FORGOTTEN 

(San  Francisco  Chronicle) 

The  author  of  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  Carlyle  Channing  Davis,  has 
done  a  good  service  in  sifting  the  chaff  from  the  wheat  in  the  large  body  of 
reminisence  that  has  gathered  about  Ramona  and  its  author.  Most  of  the  facts 
were  gathered  at  first  hand,  and  this  gives  a  remarkable  freshness  and  vivacity 
to  the  narrative.  *  *  *  Ramona  is  a  classic  which  will  never  be  for- 
gotten while  love  and  romance,  self-sacrifice  and  pity  for  the  unfortunate  stir 
the  human  heart. 

A  VALUABLE  ADDITION  TO  HISTORY 

(Los  Angeles  Express) 

It  is  seldom  that  a  story  creates  interest  enough  for  other  books  to 
be  written  about  it;  but  the  author  of  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  Carlyle 
Channing  Davis,  was  impelled  by  patriotic  and  sectional  interests,  so  to  speak, 
as  well  as  literary.  It  is  a  valuable  addition  to  the  libraries  of  Southwestern 
history,  as  it  deals  with  possibly  the  second  book  which  in  a  literary  way  has  to 
do  with  Southern  California. 


HAS  A   UNITY   AND  COMPLETENESS 

(Los  Angeles    Times) 

"The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  by  Carlyle  Channing  Davis,  has  a  unity  and 
completeness  independent  of  the  novel,  and  recites  many  incidents  and  phases  of 
romance  that  are  new  and  interesting.  The  book  is  designed  as  both  a  tribute 
to  and  interpretation  of  the  work  done  by  Mrs.  Jackson,  and  a  sketch  of  her  life, 
with  emphasis  upon  her  sincerity  and  the  far-reaching  effect  of  her  influence,  not 
only  lends  value  to  the  book,  but  will  do  much  toward  widening  and  deepening 
appreciation  for  Ramona  and  its  author. 

"IT  IS  REALLY  A  ROMANCE  ITSELF" 

(Bookseller,    Newsdealer  and  Stationer) 

"The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  by  Carlyle  Channing  Davis,  is  an  account  of 
the  eminent  author  of  Ramona,  and  how  she  came  to  write  the  novel,  together 
with  the  facts  and  fictions,  the  source  and  inspiration,  that  went  to  make  it  the 
second  largest  seller  in  the  fiction  market.  It  is  really  a  romance  itself,  involving 
thrilling  events  and  tragic  episodes,  together  with  many  hitherto  unpublished 
facts. 

[442] 


IT   WILL   HAVE   A   WIDE   BEADING 

(San  Jose  Mercury) 

No  historian,  no  other  writer  of  romance,  has  portrayed  as  has  Helen  Hunt 
Jackson  in  Ramona  the  patriarchial  life  on  an  old  California  rancho,  with  its 
lavish  hospitality  to  all  wayfarers,  its  bands  of  Indian  retainers,  and  its  deep- 
religious  life,  that  mellowed  all  the  fine  old  Biblical  spirit  and  set  it  apart  from 
the  modern  life  that  has  crowded  it  out  of  all  existence.  How  the  great  novel 
came  to  be  written,  its  inspiration  and  purpose,  is  told  with  remarkable  fidelity 
in  a  volume  just  from  the  art  press  of  the  Dodge  Publishing  Co.,  New  York, 
"The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  by  Carlyle  Channing  Davis.  It  is  a  splendid 
addition  to  the  history  of  early  California,  and  will  have  a  wide  reading  in  all 
English-speaking  countries. 

IT  IS  A   SUCCESS   WELL  DESERVED 

(San  Francisco  Argonaut) 

A  book  about  Ramona  deserves  some  attention  from  a  public  interested  in  the 
story  of  the  West,  and  attracted  by  a  vigorous  narrative  style  that  proceeds  only 
from  enthusiasm.  *  *  *  The  information  about  Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
herself,  in  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  by  Carlyle  Channing  Davis,  is  so  liberal 
as  to  amount  to  a  biography.  We  may  confess  that  Ramona  herself,  as  a  human 
character,  leaves  us  somewhat  irresponsive,  but  no  one  can  remain  irresponsive  to 
this  impressive  background  of  early  days,  with  their  simplicity,  their  devotion  and 
their  courage.  It  is  in  the  presentation  of  a  panorama  that  the  author  finds  his 
success,  and  it  is  a  success  well  deserved  by  competent  workmanship  and  con- 
scientious accuracy. 

"DID  A  GREAT  LITERARY  SERVICE" 

(Leadville   Herald  Democrat) 

In  the  New  York  Times  annual  book  review  is  a  list  of  fifty  of  "the  best 
and  most  useful  and  important  books  of  the  year,"  included  in  which  is  "The 
True  Story  of  Ramona,"  by  Carlyle  Channing  Davis.  It  is  evident  that  Ramona 
has  grown  into  a  classic,  and  in  gathering  together  all  of  the  facts  relating  to  the 
production  of  this  remarkable  book,  in  presenting  in  true  perspective  the  real 
scenes  and  incidents  which  make  up  the  groundwork  for  Mrs.  Jackson's  novel, 
Mr.  Davis  has  performed  a  great  literary  service.  Subordinate  in  interest  only 
to  the  publication  of  the  book  is  the  presentation  by  Mr.  Davis,  to  the  Los 
Angeles  County  Museum  of  History,  Science  and  Art,  of  the  robe,  sandals  and 
girdle  of  Father  Sanchez,  whose  character  is  idealized  in  Father  Salvidierra. 
These  sacred  and  historical  articles  were  procured  by  Mr.  Davis  from  Miss  Gwen- 
dolin  Sandham,  of  London,  daughter  of  the  late  Henry  Sandham,  the  artist  of 
Ramona,  to  whom  they  were  presented  by  the  reverand  father. 


THE  WORK  OF  TWO  COLORADO  PEOPLE 

(Rocky   Mountain   News) 

Those  who  read  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona,"  if  they  already  have  read 
Helen  Hunt  Jackson's  novel,  turn  eagerly  back  among  its  pages  to  identify  its 
heroes,  heroines  and  villains  and  their  haunts,  with  the  not  less  picturesque 
originals  so  vividly  portrayed  in  this  book  by  the  author,  Carlyle  Channing  Davis, 
so  widely  known  throughout  the  West  as  a  writer.  If  they  have  not  r.ead  the 
novel,  this  delineation  of  wonderful  men  and  women  and  their  influence  on  the 
production  of  a  wonderful  romance,  hasten  them  to  make  its  acquaintance.  It  is 
a  unique  and  interesting  work,  giving  facts  stranger  than  fiction  among  the 
adventures  of  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  by  an  author  singularly  equipped  for  the  task. 

NO  ONE  COULD  DENY  HIM   SUCCESS 

(Chicago  News) 

*  *  *  Colonel  Davis  has  had  a  remarkable  career.  He  is  now  the 
owner  of  three  daily  papers.  There  has  not  been  a  public  enterprise  in  Leadville 
with  which  he  has  not  been  identified,  and  he  has  always  labored  earnestly  in 
behalf  of  the  permanent  industries  of  Colorado.  His  career  has  been  so  full  of 
earnestness,  sincerity  and  honest  industry  that  no  one  would  deny  him  the  success 
that  has  crowned  it. 

"AS   SAGACIOUS  AS  ENTERPRISING" 

(Chicago   Tribune) 

There  is  talk  of  another  Republican  daily  newspaper  in  Denver,  and  it  is 
said  that  Col.  C.  C.  Davis  is  going  to  be  at  the  head  of  it.  He  has  three  papers 
already  in  Leadville,  and  he  has  mad.e  a  remarkable  success  in  life  the  past 
dozen  years.  He  is  an  exceptionally  enterprising  man,  but  he  is  as  sagacious  as 
enterprising,  and  we  do  not  believe  he  can  have  any  serious  thought  of  engaging 
in  Denver  journalism. 

HE  HAS  PERFORMED  A  GREAT  SERVICE 

(Los  Angeles  Times  Editorial) 

Carlyle  Channing  Davis  has  written  a  fine  book  calltd  "The  True  Story  of 
Ramona."  In  doing  this  he  has  performed  a  great  service.  Ramona  has  been 
one  of  the  books  which  helped  the  world  to  realize  that  California  was  on  the  map. 

[443] 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  COL.  SAM  D.  GOZA 

(Butte   Miner) 

"When  I  was  a  kid  along  in  the  fall  of  '79  or  the  spring  of  '80,  while  working 
in  the  circulation  department  of  The  Leadville  Evening  Chronicle,  I  was  sent  one 
evening  over  to  The  Herald  office  to  get  some  paste.  I  got  the  paste  and  came 
back,  and  then  the  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  m,e  that  I  go  into  the  press  room, 
get  a  little  news  ink  out  of  the  fountain,  mix  it  with  the  paste,  and  with  the 
mixture  decorate  the  front  door  knob.  The  suggestion  was  promptly  acted  upon, 
and  a  little  later  who  should  come  flying  thro'  the  door  but  the  boss  himself! 
And  the  line  of  profanity  that  followed  his  entrance  was  some  exhibition.  The 
next  day  Mr.  Davis  posted  a  notice  in  the  office,  offering  a  reward  of  $10  for 
information  as  to  the  person  who  decorated  the  door  knob.  That  ten  dollars 
looked  big  to  me  at  the  time,  and  after  debating  the  matter  in  my  mind  for  a 
short  while  I  decided  I  would  earn  it.  So,  after  getting  on  the  safe  side  of  the 
counter  from  my  irate  chief,  I  told  him.  He  promptly  handed  me  a  ten  dollar 
gold  piece,  and  to  my  amazement  sent  me  back  to  work,  refusing  to  flre  me, 
for  both  of  which  generous  acts  I  was  duly  thankful.  The  incident  illustrates 
the  character  of  the  man.  His  fury  was  ever  short-lived." 


HOW  THE  IMPOSSIBLE  WAS  ACHIEVED 

Denver,    January    11,    1892. 
C.   C.    Davis,   Leadville. 

Dear  Sir:  I  am  in  receipt  of  your  favor  of  January  8.  According  to  the 
rules  of  the  Colorado  Passenger  Agents  Association,  and  our  advertisements  with 
other  lines,  we  could  not  issue  annual  passes  to  Messrs.  Cavender,  Wood  and 
Dougan,  on  account  of  The  Herald  Democrat.  It  gives  me  pleasure,  however,  to 
enclose  with  this  complimentary  annual  passes  as  follows:  C-652,  T.  S.  Wood; 
C-653,  D.  H.  Dougan ;  C-662,  Chas  Cavender. 

Yours  truly 

S.  K.  HOOPER, 
General  Passenger  Agent  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railway  Co. 


COURTESY  OF  A  RAILWAY  OFFICIAL 

Denver,    March   19,    1896. 
Mr.  C.  C.  Davis,  Leadville. 

Dear  Sir:  To  relieve  you  of  any  possible  embarrassment  in  the  matter, 
I  write  to  ask  that  you  retain  the  annual  passes  over  our  lines  issued  to  yourself 
and  members  of  your  family,  regardless  of  the  rules  and  custom  of  returning  such 
transportation  upon  the  transfer  of  ownership  of  a  newspaper.  I  hope  you  will 
retain  the  three  annual  passes,  and  that  you  will  make  good  use  of  them  during 
the  year.  With  kind  regards, 

Very  truly  yours, 

S.   K.   HOOPER, 
General  Passenger  Agent   Denver  and   Rio   Grande   Railway   Co. 


HOW   GOVERNORS   SOMETIMES   ARE   MADE 

Colorado   Springs,   February   19,    1889. 
Hon.  C.  C.  Davis.  Leadville. 

Dear  Sir:  Col.  Elijah  Sells,  father  of  our  Secretary  and  Auditor,  is  an  appli- 
cant for  the  Governorship  of  Utah.  I  am  informed  that  Mr.  Sells  has  always 
been  very  active  in  the  interests  of  the  Republican  party,  was  once  Secretary  of 
State  of  Iowa,  later  Auditor  of  the  Postoffice  Department  during  Lincoln's  admin- 
istration, and  that  he  is  endorsed  by  such  men  as  Senator  Sanders  of  Nebraska, 
Judge  Dillon  of  New  York,  Judge  Usher  of  Kansas  (member  of  Lincoln's  Cabinet), 
Governor  Ramsey  of  Minnesota  (member  of  Hayes'  Cabinet),  Senators  Wilson  and 
Allison  of  Iowa,  Justice  Miller  of  the  U.  S.  Supreme  Court,  and  others.  *  *  * 
Our  Mr.  Sells  is  very  anxious  to  secure  the  endorsement  of  Senators  and  Represen- 
tatives, as  well  as  the  State  officials,  of  Colorado.  I  shall  feel  deeply  indebted  to 
you  if  you  can  secure  these  endorsements  for  Col.  Sells.  I  know  of  no  on.e  so  well 
versed  in  politics  as  you  are  in  this  State,  and  that  is  my  reason  for  soliciting 
your  influence  in  his  behalf. 

Yours  very  truly, 

JOHN   SCOTT, 
President  Colorado  Midland  Railway  Company. 


HOLIDAY  GREETING  FROM  THE  GREAT 

Chicago,   January  2,   1896. 

Dear  Old  Cad:  Your  kind  letter  27th  ultimo  reached  me  early  yesterday 
morning,  just  in  time  to  hear  you  say,  "Happy  New  Year!"  You  certainly  write 
as  if  you  were  feeling  better — that  is  if  you  ever  were  sick — because  you  write 
just  as  you  used  to  talk,  and  I  am  firm  in  th,e  belief  that  you  will  come  out  all 
right  if  you  stay  in  California  long  enough.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  see  you  some- 
time this  month,  as  I  am  going  out  there  with  my  successor.  *  *  *  I 
enclose  some  transportation,  which  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  use  over  our 
Southern  California  lines  at  least. 

Very  truly   your  friend, 
D.    B.    ROBINSON, 

President  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Railway  Company. 
[444] 


SOLICITUDE  OF  A  COLORADO  FRIEND 

Denver,    November    10,    1897. 
Hon.    Stephen    M.    White,    Los   Angeles. 

Dea.r  Senator:  Mr.  C.  C.  Davis,  who  for  18  years  was  proprietor  and  editor 
of  the  Leadville  Herald  Democrat  and  Chronicle,  has  been  an  intimate  friend  of 
mine  during  all  that  period.  He  has  been  at  the  very  head  of  his  profession  in 
Colorado,  and  has  exerted  a  powerful  influence  for  good  in  Leadville  and  through- 
out the  entire  West.  He  is  a  very  able  writer,  as  well  as  a  good  business  man  and 
newspaper  manager.  While  conducting  partisan  Republican  newspapers,  he  has 
never  hesitated  to  attack  his  own  party  or  oppose  its  candidates  when  in  his  own 
judgment  the  interests  of  the  people  demanded  it.  *  *  *  Upon  with- 
drawing from  Leadville,  on  account  of  ill-health,  he  was  offered  the  management 
of  Denver  papers  at  high  salaries,  because  of  his  ability  as  a  writer  and  experience 
as  a  manager.  *  *  *  Desiring  to  establish  himself  in  business  in  Cal- 
ifornia, I  am  sending  him  to  you  for  counsel  and  advice.  Should  he  permanently 
establish  himself  in  your  State,  he  will  soon  become  a  potent,  factor  in  public 
affairs.  I  can  say  without  hesitation  that  he  is  a  gentleman  of  high  honor  in 
business  and  professional  work,  absolutely  loyal  to  friends,  and  an  able  advocate 
of  any  cause  he  espouses.  He  has  probably  wielded  a  greater  influence  in  the 
interest  of  bimetalism  than  any  other  person  in  Colorado  or  th/e  West.  *  * 

*  He  is  a  very  quiet,  modest  man,  but  the  more  you  know  him  the  higher 
he  will  stand  in  your  estimation. 

Sincerely   yours, 

C.   C.   PARSONS. 


THE  RESULT  OF  INDIVIDUAL  EFFORT 

(Hall's  History  of  Colorado) 

Carlyle  C.  Davis  needs  no  elaborate  introduction  to  the  public,  no  synopsis 
from  a  long  and  illustrious  ancestry,  to  prove  his  worth,  for  this  has  been  estab- 
lished by  the  standing  he  has  attained  through  the  force  of  well  directed  effort. 
When  we  consider  the  use  he  has  made  of  the  opportunities  met 
with  during  the  past  two  decades,  and  the  rank  he  occupies  in  the  profession  of 
journalism,  the  conviction  is  plain  that  he  must  have  been  a  diligent  reader  and 
student,  for  we  know  that  whatever  of  knowledge  and  mental  culture  he  has 
acquired  beyond  the  rudiments  has  been  the  result  of  individual  effort,  unassisted 
by  schools  or  teachers,  for  at  the  age  of  ten  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  printer. 

*  *          *          We  know   that   Mr.   Davis'   mental   training,    under  the   unfavorable 
conditions    of    his    boyhood,    was    irregular   and    imperfect,    for    there    was    neither 
time  nor  advantages  at  his  disposal;  yet  he  had  no  sooner  mastered  his  trade  than 
he  began  to  teach.     At  the  age  of  16  he  was  the  editor  and  manager  of  a  weekly 
newspaper.     While  his  primitive  efforts  may  not  have  been  either  brilliant  or  pro- 
found,   it   was    a   bold   beginning,    which    testified    to   his  ambition   and    his   resolve 
to  pursue  an   independent   course   until   something   worthy   should   b,e   achieved.        * 

*  *          *       We  have  accepted,  without  consulting  him  on  the  subject,  the  self- 
evident  proposition   that  while  a  printer's  boy  of  all   work  he  idled  away  no  time, 
but   assiduously  applied  himself  to  the  practical   duties  of  life,   in  preparation   for 
the   stage  he  mounted   with   strong  self-reliance   immediately   after   the   expiration 
of  his   indenture.          *          *          *          His  phenomenal   success  at   Leadville   became 
so   soon   accentuated   that   two   powerful    contemporaries   sprang   up   to   contest   the 
field,    the   Herald  and  the  Democrat;   but,    lacking  the  business  qualities   which   in 
large    degree    have    contributed   to    the    success    of   Mr.    Davis,    both    in   due    course 
succumbed   to   fate   and   were   merged   in   The   Chronicle.      Since   then   he   has   been 
the   sole   master   of   the   journalistic   field   in   Western   Colorado.      More   newspapers 
have    gone    down    in    disaster   from   the   want   of   business   skill   and   sagacity    than 
from   the   lack   of   editorial   prescience  and   power;   indeed   the   foundation   of  every 
successful    newspaper    lies    in    its    counting    room.       Happily,    Mr.    Davis    was    not 
only   a    capable    writer,    but   a   superior   financial    director,    which   accounts   for   his 
fame   and   fortune.      That   he   is  a  potential    force   in   county   and  'State   is    widely 
conceded.      Nothwithstanding    the    town    and    county    in    which    he    lives    is    about 
evenly  divided  between  the  two  great  political  organizations,   his  journals  exercise 
large  influence  in  both,  and  have  thus  far  been  able  to  control  most  of  the  elec- 
tions  when    fairly   conducted.  *  *  *          He   was    elected    City    Clerk    and 
Delegate-at-Large  to   the   National   Republican  Convention,    was   chosen    President 
of  the  City  National  Bank  and  appointed  Postmaster;   but  he   has  neither  aspired 
to  nor  held  any  other  public   positions,    but   has  devoted   his  energies   and   talents 
to  the  advancement  of  the  public  welfare,  with  what  success  the  record  shows. 


UNSOLICITED  TRIBUTE  OF  A  FRIEND 

(Dr.    D.   H.   Dougan's   Contribution   to  Current   History) 

The  biography  of  Carlyle  C.  Davis  is  not  very  different  from  that  of  thousands 
of  self-mad.e  men  who,  by  industry,  intelligence  and  force  of  character,  have 
emerged  from  the  masses  and  become  leaders  of  men.  *  *  *  All  of 

the  years  preceding  his  advent  in  the  embryo  mining  metropolis  were  but  a 
preparation  for  the  work  now  before  him.  The  years  of  toil,  of  care,  of  self- 
denial,  of  diligent  study,  were  now  to  find  their  reward.  His  two  associates  were 
early  lured  to  other  fields,  their  interests  in  a  journal  grown  to  proportions  not 
dreamed  of  at  the  time  of  its  foundation  absorbed  by  Davis.  His  contemporaries, 
after  fierce  contests  for  supremacy,  fell  one  by  one  in  the  conflict,  were  purchased 
by  him  and  added  to  his  now  great  establishment,  the  largest  in  the  State.  * 
*  *  Mr.  Davis  has  been  successful,  not  alone  because  he  made  himself 

master  of  all  the  details  of  his  profession,  nor  yet  because  of  his  correct  business 

[445] 


knowledge.  These  accomplishments  have  had  their  value,  but,  added  to  them  and 
above  them,  he  has  the  true  instincts  of  a  journalist.  In  the  matter  of  news  he 
knows  what  the  people  want,  and  gives  it  to  them.  But  it  is  in  the  editorial 
columns  that  we  find  the  reflex  of  Mr.  Davis'  mind.  No  matter  whether  in  accord 
with  public  opinion,  or  diametrically  opposed  thereto,  his  convictions  upon  all 
important  topics  are  set  forth  fearlessly.  Always  intensely  in  earnest,  his  opposi- 
tion to  men  and  measures  is  something  more  than  opposition — with  him  it  is  fierce 
conflict;  his  opponents  are  enemies  to  be  attacked,  conquered,  destroyed,  annihi- 
lated, and  many  a  budding  statesman  has  gone  down  to  untimely  obscurity  before 
his  lightning-like  strokes,  his  withering  invective,  his  scorching  satire.  Shams, 
frauds,  falsehoods,  political  or  social,  excite  his  indignation;  no  party  ties  or 
political  affiliations  will  condone  with  him  a  disregard  of  truth,  honor  or  manliness 
— as  has  been  attested  in  the  political  history  of  the  State  during  his  editorial 
career.  *  *  *  His  greatest  weakness — if  such  it  be — is  his  devotion 

to  friends.  His  own  interests  are  always  subservient  to  the  welfare  of  those  privi- 
leged to  be  classed  with  those  he  loves.  For  them  no  sacrifice  is  too  great,  no 
labor  too  tiresome.  *  *  *  While  he  aspires  to  leadership  and  is  a 

leader  in  politics,  he  is  not  a  politician.  Office  has  no  attractions  for  him.  His 
demand  is  that  parties  and  officials  shall  be  honest,  that  they  shall  well  and 
faithfully  serve  the  people.  With  no  personal  ambition  to  gratify  and  no  private 
ends  to  serve,  his  papers  are  among  the  most  powerful  of  any  in  tbje  State  in  the 
influence  they  exert  in  moulding  public  opinion.  His  newspapers  are  an  Institu- 
tion, and  with  it  all  must  take  notice  who  want  or  hold  office.  There  is  no  such 
word  as  Compromise  in  Mr.  Davis'  lexicon.  Aspirants  for  Place  must  show  their 
credentials.  Holders  of  Place  must  make  good.  Davis  and  his  papers  constitute 
a  bulwark  in  defense  of  popular  rights. 


REFLECTIONS  OF  A  GOLD  BELT  BOOMER 

Denver,    Colo.,    January   13,    1916. 
My  dear  Mr.  Davis: 

You  and  I  lived  during  the  years  of  1893,  1894  and  1895  in  Leadville.  We 
shared  the  fortunes  of  that  great  mining  camp  together  during  those  very  dark 
days  of  the  panic  of  1893,  and  together  probably  did  as  much  as  many  others  to 
bring  this  great  mining  camp  again  into  public  notice  and  throw  upon  it  the 
spotlight  of  the  Gold-Belt  Boom  of  '94  and  '95. 

It  was  thirteen  years  after  my  first  visit  in  1880  to  Leadville  that  I  again 
cast  my  lot  with  the  fortunes  of  this  camp  which,  in  January  of  1893  and  the 
next  few  months,  was  at  almost  its  high  tide  of  prosperity  as  a  silver-lead  mining 
camp,  and  in  the  few  weeks  preceding  the  end  of  June  the  camp  presented  prob- 
ably the  busiest  scene  in  real  mining  and  in  real  production  during  its  entire 
history.  The  stream  of  ore  teams  that  came  down  from  Iron  Hill,  Carbonate 
Hill  and  from  Fryer  Hill,  was  almost  continuous  night  and  day.  Everyone  was 
hopeful  for  the  future,  not  only  in  mining  but  in  every  line  of  business,  was 
looking  forward  to  a  period  of  unprecedented  prosperity  for  Leadville.  Suddenly, 
and  without  warning  to  most  of  us,  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  of  June  came 
the  news  of  the  closing  of  the  India  Mints,  and  many  a  mining  millionaire  and 
many  a  business  man  awoke  on  that  morning  to  find  himself  ruined  financially, 
and  you  and  I  were  counted  among  the  unfortunates.  From  a  feeling  of  pros- 
perity, of  wealth  and  of  hope,  we  all  awoke  to  find  the  camp  apparently  ruined. 
How  despondent  the  people  of  Leadville  were  and  how  deep  was  the  gloom  that 
pervaded  the  camp  can  be  understood  probably  by  the  following  lines  that  were 
written  for  and  sung  at  a  Consolation  dinner  at  the  Elk  Club  on  July  1,  1893,  by 
Mr.  A.  A.  Blow,  whom  the  entire  mining  world  knows  well: 

Listen  to  My  Tale  of  Wo« 

Up  in  these  mountains  high  and  blue 

Listen  to  my  tale  of  woe — 
Dwells  a  shining  metal,   of  silver  hue, 
Which  was  freely  coined  in  '72 
Into    dollars    on   which    the   eagle    flew, 

Listen   to   my  tale   of  woe. 

Some    prospectors    one    day    tramping    through, 

Listen   to   my  tale   of  woe; 
Sat  down  on  the  rocks  their  grub  to  chew, 
And  there  on  the  ground,   'midst  the   grass   and  dew 
Saw  outcrops  of  silver,   which  they  knew. 

Listen   to   my   tale   of  woe. 

CHORUS 

Hard    trials — tim.es    look    blue, 
A   silver   dollar   is   not   worth   a  sou; 
All  on  account  of  that  Gold-Bug  crew — 
Oh!    listen   to   my   tale  of   woe. 

Then  thousands  of  miners  to   these  mountains  flew, 

Listen   to   my  tale   of  woe. 
And  thousands  of  mines  they  began  to  hew 
Out  of  these  rocks  where  the  silver  grew, 
And    wealth    to   all    began    to   accrue — 

Listen   to   my   tale   of  woe. 
[4461 


They  founded   railroads  and   cities,    too, 

Listen  to  my  tale  of  woe; 
And  millions  of  dollars  into  smelters  blew, 
And  built  an  empire  vast  and  new 
Which  the  Gold-Bugs  of  earth  can  never  subdue, 

But  listen  to  my  tale  of  woe. 

CHORUS 

Hard    trials — times    are    blue, 

Silver   is   down   to    62; 

The  act  of  the  villainous  Gold-Bug  crew, 

Listen   to   my  tale   of  woe. 

But  with  damnable  purpose  and  selfish  view; 

Listen   to   my   tale   of   woe. 

Came  the  English  lord  and  the  Wall  street  crew 
And   to   ruin   of  many,    the   benefit   of  the   few, 
Our  free   coinage    laws  they   did   undo — 

Listen   to   my   tale   of  woe. 

And   our  silver  they  knocked  to   62, 

Listen    to    my    tale    of    woe; 

But  the  Gold-Bug  shall  learn  that  day  to  rue, 
For  from  New   Orleans  to   Kalamazoo 
Shall  they  hear  free  silver's  hullabaloo, 

And   listen   to   our   tale   of  woe. 

CHORUS 

Hard  trials;   times  look   blue; 

Silver   and    lead   not    worth   a   sou; 

All   on   account    of   the   Gold-Bug   crew — 

Listen    to    my   tale   of   woe. 

Under  free  coinage  now  we'll  set  a  jack  screw, 

Listen   to   my   tale   of  woe; 
Turned  by   our  backbone,    brain  and  sinew, 
And  will  fight   like  a  desperate  starved  Zulu, 
To  beat  Grover  Cleveland,  the  big  Yahoo — 

Listen    to    my   tale   of  woe. 

Then  we'll   build  a  high  wall  'long  the  big  Mazoo, 

Listen   to    my   tale   of   woe; 
And  we'll   fill   to  sinking  a  big  canoe, 
With   the   monometallic   Gold-Bug  crew, 
And  sink   them   forever  out   of  view — 

Listen  to  my  tale  of  woe. 

CHORUS 

Hard  trials;  for  the  story  is  true. 
But   better  times  will   sure   ensue. 
And  we'll  drink  to  the  death  of  the 
Gold-Bug  crew — 
Listen  to  my  tale   of  woe. 

You  will  recall  as  many  another  the  exodus  of  people  from  Leadville  during 
those  summer  months,  and  the  effort  of  those  who  remained  to  gather  their  wits 
together  in  an  effort  to  see  what  could  be  done  to  save  what  little  they  had  and 
to  retrieve  their  broken  fortune.  With  the  advent  of  the  gold  standard  the 
thoughts  of  the  world  were  turned  towards  the  production  of  gold.  I,  myself, 
sent  several  prospectors  out  from  Leadville,  some  to  Lackawanna  and  Half  Moon 
gulches  across  the  Arkansas  and  others  again  to  the  Dillon  and  Breckenridge 
districts,  and  right  here  I  want  to  recall  to  you  an  afternoon  visit  that  I  paid 
to  you  some  time  in  August  or  September  of  that  year,  and  your  remark  while 
freezing  the  pain  that  racked  your  body,  "that  everything  had  gone  to  the  dogs 
and  all  that  you  had  worked  for  was  lost,"  and  the  suggestion  which  I  made  to 
you,  that  inasmuch  as  the  world  wanted  gold,  Leadville  could  furnish  that  also, 
and  that  the  best  evidence  of  it  was  the  millions  in  placer  gold  taken  from 
California  gulch.  The  secret  of  the  source  had  not  then  and  even  now  has  not 
been  fully  determined  or  discovered.  I  called  to  your  mind  also,  the  production 
of  those  early  times  on  Printer  Boy  Hill,  notably  the  Printer  Boy  and  Lillian  mines, 
since  very  early  days,  and  the  Antioch  mine  and  its  mill  built  to  treat  low  grade 
ores,  and  my  suggestion  that  if  we  would  but  try  that  possibly  we  might  induce 
prospecting  within  the  limits  of  the  camp  for  gold.  I  recall  that  you  doubted 
whether  the  leading  mining  men  of  th.e  camp  would  support  the  effort  to  develop 
Leadville  as  a  gold  mining  camp,  and  even  after  you  had  secured  the  consent  of 
seven  of  the  leading  mining  men  of  Leadville  to  write  articles  on  Leadville  as  a 
gold  camp,  and  after  Mr.  Blow  had  promised  to  furnish  us  the  topographical  and 
geographical  maps  necessary  to  exploit  the  scheme,  you  questioned  whether  we 
could  raise  the  little  funds  necessary  to  carry  on  the  campaign,  and  I  recall  your 
remark  to  me,  that  everything  was  gone  any  way  and  that  you  might  as  well  send 
the  rest  that  you  had  after  it;  that  you  would  print  these  various  gold-belt  articles 
and  maps  in  the  paper  and  we  would  run  the  chance  of  getting  the  money. 
Really  it  was  just  like  spending  your  own  credit  after  w.e  thought  that  everything 
else  was  gone. 

[447] 


Few  mining  men  will  forget  the  series  of  articles  furnished  by  Mr.  Campion. 
Mr.  Blow,  Mr.  Noble,  Mr.  Wood,  Mr.  Moore,  and  others  which  appeared  in  succeed- 
ing Sunday  editions  of  the  Herald  Democrat.  Nor  of  that  map  of  claims;  the 
topographical  maps,  the  geographical  section  that  Mr.  Blow  furnished  us,  and 
excellent  plates  of  which  you  obtained  and  published  in  connection  with 
these  articles.  And  while  it  was  the  wonderful  faith  and  marvellous 
discoveries  of  Mr.  Campion  and  Mr.  Brown  in  the  Little  Johny  mines,  that 
really  rehabilitated  Leadville  in  the  mining  world,  the  publicity  and  advertising 
which  you  gave  this  movement  in  the  Herald  Democrat  during  all  those  months 
induced  a  tremendous  amount  of  development  and  prospecting,  resulting  in  the 
sinking  of  hundreds  of  shafts  and  the  resumption  of  work  in  abandoned  workings, 
and  really  was  the  basis  of  much  of  the  prosperity  of  the  camp  ever  since.  This 
was  notably  the  case  with  the  work  that  was  carried  on  in  the  old  Silver  Cord 
tunnel,  the  Yak  Mining  company,  and  particularly  the  development  of  the  Monarch 
and  the  Resurrection  mines.  The  real  good  that  was  accomplished  in  Leadville 
by  that  advertising  and  by  the  so-called  Gold-Belt  boom  was  proven  of  tremendous 
value,  not  only  to  the  camp  but  to  the  State  of  Colorado.  It  was  all  done  by  the 
leading  men  of  the  camp  and  through  their  faith  of  the  possibility  of  the  Leadville 
district. 

I  want  to  recall  to  your  mind  one  of  the  many  amusing  incidents  that 
occurred  during  this  mining  boom.  You  will  remember  the  Rex  drill  hole  which 
was  sunk  by  Bob  O'Neill  and  L.  D.  Roedebush,  and  on  which  for  a  time  it  seemed 
that  the  whole  future  of  the  Gold-Belt  excitement  rested.  You  recall  the  time 
when  the  excitement  seemed  to  halt  and  wait  almost  breathlessly  for  the  result 
of  the  sinking  of  that  shaft,  and  that  as  they  came  closer  and  closer  to  the  point 
where  the  ore  was  shown  in  the  drill  hole,  that  the  excitement  and  the  anxiety 
of  many  was  apparent  in  more  ways  than  one.  If  they  failed  to  find  the  ore  as 
indicated,  what  explanation  could  be  given?  There  were  many  theories  as  to  its 
occurrence,  and  I  recall  that  a  few  days  before  it  was  expected  that  they  would 
reach  the  ore  body  you  felt  that  it  would  be  the  proper  thing  to  prepare  the  Public 
mind  in  case  of  a  possible  failure  of  this  shaft;  that  the  latt  Mr.  Boehmer  wrote 
an  article  for  your  paper  that  explained  the  occurrence  of  this  ore  in  one  way, 
and  another  mining  expert  wrote  an  article  explaining  it  a  different  way.  At  any 
rate  these  articles  served  to  let  the  public  mind  down  to  th.e  point  where  dis- 
appointment came  easy.  For  the  ore  was  never  found,  even  after  repeated  at- 
tempts to  this  day.  However,  the  excitement  had  accomplished  its  purpose,  and 
many  mines  that  have  produced  millions  since  were  opened  up  as  the  result  of  this 
excitement. 

The  winter  of  '94  '95,  saw  in  the  State  many  repetitions  of  the  scenes  of 
earlier  days  and  the  return  of  many  a  miner  and  many  a  promoter  who  had 
sought  and  found  fortunes  in  Leadville  in  the  days  of  '78  and  '79,  and  with  all  the 
disappointments  attending  it  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  real  Leadvilleite  who  regrets 
the  experiences  of  the  Gold-Belt  boom,  or  the  results  of  the  excitement  and  adver- 
tising that  it  gave  to  Leadville.  While  it  all  turned  out  unfortunately  for  me, 
personally,  as  I  was  compelled  to  leave  the  camp  in  the  early  winter  of  '95  and  '96, 
and  you  had  been  carried  out  on  a  stretcher  many  months  before  on  that  last 
trip  over  the  old  South  Park,  which  you  have  no  doubt  described  in  your  book,  I 
doubt  not  both  of  us  still  feel  the  same  interest  and  share  in  the  hopes  for  the 
future  of  this  greatest  of  all  mining  camps,  and  doubtless  both  of  us,  were  we 
to  live  our  lives  over  again,  would  yield  to  the  same  temptation  and  try  our  luck 
in  Leadville  again. 

There  are  many  things  about  a  mining  camp  and  about  its  booms,  about  its 
excitement,  that  do  not  just  meet  the  approval  of  polite  society,  but,  believe  me, 
the  hardships  one  undergoes,  the  high  stakes  one  plays  for,  the  splendid  successes 
or  rank  failures,  all  bring  together  in  a  close  friendship  the  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances who  shared  together  those  early  days  in  Leadville.  To  be  a  true  Lead- 
villeite is  to  belong  to  a  clan  with  bonds  that  are  stronger  than  those  of  any 
secret  organizations,  and  no  body  of  Cousin  Jack's  were  more  clannish  than  those 
who  made  Leadville  their  home  in  the  early  days.  I  am  sure  that  you  have 
found  it  so  wherever  you  have  been,  and  I  know  it  has  been  a  source  of  unceasing 
pleasure  to  me. 

Sincerely, 

CALVIN  HENRY   MORSE. 


"SPLENDID,  FASCINATING,  ENTRANCING" 

(Judge  E.  L.   Scarritt,   Missouri  Supreme  Court) 

I  have  just  finished  reading  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona."  It  is  splendid, 
fascinating,  entrancing.  The  reading  of  Ramona  is  not  complete  without  it.  The 
comprehensive  and  vivid  portrayal  of  the  real  characters  and  scenes  clothe  the 
fictitious  characters  in  the  novel  with  such  realism  as  to  make  them  historic 
as  well  as  romantic.  The  work  will  bring  additional  fame  and  lustre  to  the  great 
work  and  noble  life  of  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  as  well  as  carve  the  name  of  the 
author  of  "The  True  Story  of  Ramona"  among  the  first  writers  of  the  country. 
The  style  and  illustrations  of  the  book  are  simply  incomparable.  I  hope  it  will 
have  as  large  a  sale  as  the  beautiful  story  of  the  fictitious  Ramona.  I  assure  you  I 
most  highly  appreciate  your  gift  of  the  book  to  me,  and  I  will  k.eep  it  and  the 
affectionate  sentiment  inscribed  on  its  first  page  in  my  library,  and  in  my  heart 
of  hearts,  as  long  as  I  live. 

E.   L.   SCARRITT. 


[448] 


